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THIRTY-FOUR  SERMONS: 


RT.  REV.  JOMTHAN  MAYHEW  WAmWRIGHT,  D.D.,  D.C.L., 


PROVISIONAL   BISHOP    OF    THE    DIOCESE    OF   NEW   YORK. 


EDITED  Bl^  HIS  WIDOW 


NEW  yOEK: 

D.    APPLETON    AND     COMPANY, 

346   &   348   BROADWAY. 

LONDON:    16    LITTLE    BRITAIN. 

1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 
D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THIS 

"MEMORIAL     VOLUME" 

IS 

^Ebicateb  to 
PETER  WAINWRIGHT, 

ONLY     BROTHER    OF     THE    AUTHOR     OF    THE     SERMONS. 

THE    TWO    WERE    UNITED,    THROUGH    LIFE, 

IN     THE     CLOSEST     BONDS     OF     SYMPATHY     AND     AFFECTION  ; 

AND    TO    THE    LAST,    ON    EARTH, 

A     brother's     LOVE     ADMINISTERED     TO     THE     WANTS 

OF    THE    DYING    SAINT. 

A.  M.  W. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface, 5 

Address  at  the  Funeral  of  Bishop  Waiitvvright,         .        13 
A  Sketch,  in  outline,  of  the  late  Bishop  Wainwright,      23 


SEKMONS. 

The  Position  and  Prospects  of  the  Church  of  England,       93 
Psalm  xlviii.  12,  13. — Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her  ; 
tell  the  towers  thereof.     Mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks,  consider  her 
palaces ;  that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the  generation  following. 

A  Plea  FOR  Missions, 114 

EccLEsiASTES  xi.  1,  2. — Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  :  for  thou 
shalt  find  it  after  many  days.  Give  a  portion  to  seven,  and  also  to 
eight ;  for  thou  knowest  not  what  evil  shall  be  upon  the  earth. 

Inequalities  in  Wealth  the  Ordinance  of  God,     .         .     147 
Deuteronomy  xv.  11. — The  poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land. 

The  Confessing  or  Denying  of  Christ,       .         .         .  197 

Matthew  x.  32,  33. — Whosoever  therefore  shall  confess  me  before 
men,  him  will  I  confess  also  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 
But  whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

The  Harmony  and  Efficiency  of  the  Gospel  Scheme  op 

Salvation, 211 

1  John  ii.  1,  2. — My  little  children,  these  things  write  I  ur.to  you, 
that  ye  sin  not.  And  if  any  man  sin,  Ave  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous  :  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins  :  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 


VI.  COJSTENTS. 

PAOB 

The  Love  of  God  in  the  Incarnation  of  Christ,       .  222 

1  John  iv.  9. — In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God  towards  us, 
because  that  God  sent  his  only  begotten  Son  into  the  world,  that  we 
might  live  through  him. 

The  Duty  and  Advantages  of  Prayer,   ....     234 

Job  xxi.  15. — ^\^lat  profit  should  we  have  if  we  pray  unto  him  ? 

The  Supper  of  the  Lord  our  most  precious  Privilege,       246 
1  Corinthians  xi.  26.— For  as  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink 
this  cup,  ye  do  show  the  Lord's  death  till  he  come. 

The  Laborers  in  the  Vineyard, 256 

Matthew  xx.  16. — So  the  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first  last :  for 
many  be  called,  but  few  chosen. 

The  Nature  and  Reasonableness  of  Self-Denial,     .  268 

Ldke  ix.  23. — And  he  said  to  them  all,  If  any  man  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me. 

The  Witness  of  the  Spirit  in  the  Soul  of  Man,     .         .280 
1  John  v.  10. — He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  hath  the  wit- 
ness in  himself. 

OuB  Share  in  the  Sins  of  Others,        .         .         .         .  290 

1  Timothy  v.  22. — Neither  be  partaker  of  other  men's  sins. 

Heinousness  of  Sins  of  Omission, 302 

Matthew  xxv.  1-4. — Then  shall  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be  hkened 
unto  ten  virgins,  which  took  their  lamps,  and  went  forth  to  meet  the 
bridegroom.  And  five  of  them  were  wise,  and  five  were  foolish. 
They  that  were  foolish  took  tlieir  lamps,  and  took  no  oil  with  them. 
But  the  wise  took  oil  in  their  vessels  with  their  lamps. 

The  Giving  of  our  Hearts  to  God,     .         .         .         .  315 

Proverbs  xxiii.  26. — My  son,  give  me  thine  heart. 

The  Ordinary  Means  of  Grace  All-Sufficient,     .        .328 
Luke  xvi.  31. — If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  neither 
will  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose  from  the  dead. 

The  Power  of  Christ's  Resurrection,        .        .        .  343 

Philippians  iii.  10. — That  I  may  know  him  and  the  power  of  his 
resurrection. 


CONTENTS.  vdi. 


PASS 

The  Folly  akd  Dangers  of  Delay,  .        .         .         .354 

EccLESiASTEs  xi.  4. — He  that  observeth  the  wind  shall  not  sow,  and 
he  that  regardeth  the  clouds  shall  not  reap. 

Purity  op  Heart,  its  Attainment  and  Reward,         .  364 

Matthew  v.  8. — Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God. 

The  Nature  and  Essentials  of  Spiritual  Worship,       .     37V 
John  iv.  24. — God  is  a  Spirit :  and  they  that  worship  him,  must 
worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

Our  Accountability  for  our  Thoughts,      .        .         .  390 

Acts  viii.  21,  22. — Thy  heart  is  not  right  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Repent,  therefore,  of  this  thy  wickedness  ;  and  pray  God,  if  perhaps 
the  thought  of  thine  heart  may  be  forgiven  thee. 

The  Fruits  of  the  Lord's  Chastening,     ....     402 

Hebrews  xiL  11. — Now,  no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to 
be  joyous,  but  grievous  ;  nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exercised  thereby. 

The  Blessed  Saviour's  Invitation  to  all,  .        .        .  414 

John  vi.  68. — Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life. 

The  Death  of  the  Righteous, 424 

NmiBERs  xxiii.  10. — Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and 
let  my  last  end  be  like  his. 

The  Intluence  of  Divine  Grace,         ....  436 

John  vi.  44. — No  man  can  come  to  me,  except  the  Father  which 
hath  sent  me  draw  him. 

The  Christian's  Dependence  upon  God,  ....     446 

Ephesians  vi.  10. — My  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might. 

The  Necessity  of  Christ's  Death,       .         .        .         .  457 

Luke  xxiv.  26. — Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things, 
and  to  enter  into  his  glory  ? 

Neither  Riches  nor  Poverty  Desirable,         .         .         .472 

Proverbs  xxx.  8,  9. — Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ;  feed 
me  with  food  convenient  for  me  ;  lest  I  be  full  and  deny  thee,  and  say, 
Who  is  the  Lord  ?  or  lest  I  be  poor,  and  steal,  and  take  the  name  of 
my  God  in  vain. 


VUl.  CONTENTS. 

FAOB 

Obedience  the  Test  of  Christian  Knowledge,  .         .  483 

1  John  ii.  3. — And  hereby  do  we  know  that  we  know  him,  if  we 
keep  his  commandments. 

The  Holy  Spirit  grieved  ox  account  of  our  Sins,  .     495 

Ephesians  iv.  30. — And  gi-ieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  where- 
by ye  are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption. 

The  Danger  and  Guilt  of  the  Love  of  Riches,          .  504 

PRO^^:RBS  xxviiL  20. — He  that  maketh  haste  to  be  rich  shall  not 
be  innocent. 

Christian  Nurture  of  Children, 519 

2  Timothy  iii.  14,  15. —  But  continue  thou  in  the  things  which  thou 
hast  learned  and  hast  been  assured  of,  knowing  of  whom  thou  hast 
learned  them ;  and  that  from  a  child  thou  hast  known  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make  thee  wise  unto  salvation  through 
faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  ' 

God's  Favors  bestowed  according  to  our  Faith,       .  532 

Mark  vi.  5,  6. — And  he  could  there  do  no  mighty  work,  save  that 
he  laid  his  hands  upon  a  few  sick  folk,  and  healed  them.  And  he 
marvelled  because  of  their  unbelief 

Our  Responsibility  for  our  Faith,  ....     544 

Romans  x.  10. — With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness. 

Preparation  for  Death  and  Judgment,      .        .        .  553 

Amos  iv.  12. — Prepars  to  meet  thy  God. 


PREFACE. 


The  Sermons  of  Bishop  Wainwriglit  contained  in 
tlie  present  volume  (witli  two  exceptions  *  )  have  been 
taken  from  the  large  number  of  manuscripts,  which 
were  left  by  the  lamented  author  at  his  death,  to  all 
appearance  just  as  they  had  been  rapidly  penned  by 
him  for  the  immediate  service  of  the  i3ulpit  in  the 
regular  discharge  of  his  duties,  from  week  to  week. 

Under  the  constant  pressure  of  parochial  work  and 
care, — always  interested  and  engaged  in  the  general 
service  and  business  of  the  Church, — never  permitting 
himself  to  be  absent  from  his  place,  when  he  could 
possibly  attend  at  the  meeting  of  any  Society,  Board 
of  Trustees,  or  Committee  of  which  he  was  a  member, 

*  These  are  the  Sei-mons  on  page  114  and  on  page  147,  wliich  were 
printed  under  the  author's  supervision  ;  one  in  the  year  1 828,  the  other 
in  1835. 


PEEFACE. 


Dr.  Wainwriglit  could  iu  general  devote  but  little  time 
to  tlie  preparation  of  the  sermon  written  in  tlie  closet. 
The  true  expression,  the  completeness,  and  the  finish  of 
the  composition,  he  very  often — perhaps  commonly — 
left  for  the  sermon  to  be  preached  from  the  pulpit. 

These  manuscripts  then,  especially  with  their  further 
privation  of  the  graceful,  impressive  manner,  and  the 
commanding  presence  of  the  living  speaker,  could  not 
be  expected  faithfully  to  portray  what  he  truly  was, — 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  preachers  in  the  Amer- 
ican Church. 

Therefore  in  presenting  to  the  Church  this  me- 
morial, they  who  have  it  in  charge  feel  deeply  the 
difficulty  and  delicacy  of  what  they  are  doing,  and 
the  responsibility  for  it,  to  which  they  will  be  held. 
They  do  not  know  that  the  Bishop,  could  he  have 
been  consulted,  would  have  given  his  consent  to  the 
publication  of  any  one  of  these  discourses ;  and  they 
do  know  that  if  consenting,  he  never  would  have  suf- 
fered them  to  go  to  the  press,  without  the  most  full 
and  severe  revision.  Alas !  his  instructions  and  aid 
we  could  not  have  •  and  it  became  the  task  of  friend- 
ship and  affection  to  answer,  as  in  the  circumstances  it 
might  best  be  answered,  the  demand  not  to  be  disre- 
garded, of  the  many  who  had  known  and  loved  him 
during  his  life,  for  some  such  memento  as  this  volume 
is  designed  to  give.     A  few  manuscripts   have   been 


PKEFACE.  Y 


selected,  of  sermons  written  at  different  periods  of  his 
ministry,  and  have  been  prepared  for  the  press,  not  of 
course  as  he  would  have  selected  and  prepared  them, 
for  that  could  not  be  done  by  another — but  as  care- 
fully as  possible, — and  they  are  now  published,  not 
with  the  expectation  of  representing  to  strangers  the 
learned  divine,  or  the  eloquent  pulpit  orator, — nor  of 
illustrating  his  plans  and  habits  of  doctrinal  and  prac- 
tical teaching,  and  his  fidelity  in  following  the  Church, 
from  year  to  year,  in  her  annual  round  of  services ; 
thus  preaching  the  Gospel  in  its  fulness,  rightly  di- 
viding the  Word  of  Truth,  "  and  giving  to  every  man 
his  portion  of  meat  in  due  season  ; "  but  as  a  remem- 
brancer to  his  friends, — to  those  who  have  known  him 
long  and  well, — ^in  whose  hearts  the  slightest  touch  of 
the  chord  of  association  and  sympathy,  cannot  fail  to 
awaken  clear  and  beautiful  memories  of  the  man,  the 
Christian,  the  friend,  the  pastor, — gentle  and  honorable 
and  faithful  in  his  life,  and  sublime  in  his  martyr-like 
death. 

As  a  preacher.  Bishop  Wainwright  was  distin- 
guished for  elegance,  and  grace  of  style  and  manner ; 
but  he  was  even  more  distinguished  for  simplicity  and 
directness  of  thought  and  speech.  He  affected  none 
of  the  obscurity  which  some  call  "  dc])tli "  /  nor  did  he 
lose  himself  and  his  hearers  in  boundless  abstractions, 
and  consider  it  ''^ hreadth'''^  of  thought.      With  true 


g  PREFACE. 

humility,  sometimes,  perhaps,  running  mto  excess,  as 
any  ruling  principle  or  feeling  is  apt  to  do,  he  studious- 
ly avoided  subjects  which  he  deemed  too  high,  either 
for  the  grasp  of  his  own  mind,  or  for  the  direct  prac- 
tical instruction  of  the  humblest  portion  of  his  flock. 
This  is  illustrated  by  an  anecdote  which  his  friends 
have  heard  him  relate  of  himself  in  connection  with 
the  late  Daniel  Webster  : 

"  During  my  residence  in  Boston,"  said  Dr.  Wain- 
wrifrht,  "  Mr.  Webster,  several  times  in  the  course  of 
our  frequent  conversations,  suggested  subjects  which 
he  wished  to  hear  treated  from  the  pulpit,  and  I  have 
taken  advantage  of  the  suggestion.  On  one  occasion 
he  said  to  me  with  more  than  common  earnestness, 
'  There  is  one  text  which  I  have  often  thou^'ht  of  as 
opening  a  grand  subject,  and  I  should  like  to  hear  it 
treated.'  '  What  is  that,  Mr.  Webster  ? '  Turning  to 
me  with  his  eye  kindling  under  his  overhanging  brow, 
and  speaking  slowly  in  his  deep  tremulous  tone,  he 
said,  '  There  is  one  lawgiver.^  I  replied :  '  It  is  a  noble 
subject,  and  I  will  write  upon  it  for  next  Sunday.' 
'  You  cannot.'  '  Why  ?  it  is  but  Wednesday,  and  I 
shall  have  ample  time.'  '  You  cannot ;  that  sermon 
will  cost  you  the  best  fortnight's  labor  you  ever  under- 
took.' I  thought,  nevertheless,  that  I  could  accomplish 
the  design  ;  and  upon  returning  to  my  study,  I  under- 
took it,  dwelling  upon  it  and  making  notes.     But  the 


PEEFACE.  1) 

more  I  meditated,  tlie  larger  grew  the  subject,  and  I 
put  myself  seriously  to  tlie  task  for  the  remainder  of 
the  week.  Saturday  came,  and  the  mighty  idea  had 
stretched  beyond  my  narrow  grasjD  ;  and  I  gave  the 
subject  up  for  the  time,  saying  to  myself,  Hooker  has 
bent  that  bow,  and  Webster  could,  were  he  to  try,  but 
I  cannot." 

Now  his  very  appreciation  of  the  greatness  of  the 
theme,  here  unconsciously  shown,  is  an  evidence  that  in 
his  humility  he  underrated  his  power  to  grasp  it. 
Many  an  inferior  man  would,  without  hesitation,  have 
essayed  the  bow  of  Ulysses,  and  to  his  life's  end  would 
probably  have  told  the  story  of  his  success  in  bending 
it.  The  real  difficulty  presented  to  Dr.  Wainwright, 
no  doubt,  was  that  of  adapting  the  treatment  of  such 
a  theme  to  his  habitual  manner  of  seeking,  in  every 
thing  he  uttered  from  the  j)u]pit, — ^the  instruction  and 
the  edification  of  the  plainest  among  the  j^eoj^le.  His 
tastes,  formed  and  disciplined  under  a  profound  sense 
of  the  duties  of  his  office,  led  him  to  a  different  class 
of  subjects ;  and  when  several  years  afterwards  his 
friend,  Washington  Irving,  suggested  to  him  as  a  text 
the  words,  '"''My  son^  give  me  tliy  lieart^'^  which,  al- 
though not  really  inferior  in  its  demands  upon  intel- 
lectual resource  and  power,  to  the  text  proposed  by 
Mr.  Webster,  was  yet  more  within  the  range  of  his 
ordinary  meditations.      Without  difficulty,  and   in  a 


10  PREFACE. 

very  sliort  time,  tlie  excellent  sermon  was  prepared, 
wliicli  is  to  be  fomid  on  the  315tli  page  of  this 
volume. 

It  is  believed  that  in  whatever  other  aspect  the 
sermons  here  printed  may  fail  to  portray  the  preacher, 
this  feature  of  humility,  of  simplicity,  and  of  practical 
directness,  will  be  clearly  seen.  And  it  is  also  believed 
that  this  i^  the  feature  which  the  preacher  himself 
would  have  chosen  to  be  the  chief  and  prominent  one 
in  any  and  every  memorial  of  him  upon  earth.  Surely 
it  is  "  his  witness  in  Heaven,  and  his  record  on  High," 
that  "  ill  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity  "  he  preached 
the  Gospel  of  the  common  salvation. 

This  "  Memorial  Volume  "  owes  its  title  to  a  sugges- 
tion of  an  old  and  particular  friend  of  Bishop  Wain- 
wright,  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Connecticut. 

The  Memoir  is  from  the  pen  of  another  old  and 
tried  friend,  the  Bishoj)  of  New  Jersey. 

The  Funeral  Address,  now  published  by  special 
request,  was  preached  by  an  associate  and  fellow- 
laborer,  whose  respect  and  affection  for  the  Bishop 
were  the  growth  of  an  almost  daily  intercourse  of 
twenty  years. 

The  work  of  conducting  the  volume  through  the 
press,  was  committed  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  A.  Spencer, 
who,  with  filial  reverence,  has  faithfully  devoted  his 
excellent  taste  and  judgment  to  its  accomplishment. 


PREFACE.  1 1 

And  the  publication  is  hallowed  to  every  true  heart 

by  the  tender  and  ever-watchful  care  and  oversight 

of  one,  whose  all  of  life  is  bound  up  with  the  sacred 

memory  of  the  departed. 

E.  Y.  H. 

New  Yoek,  Easter  Fven^  1856. 


ADDRESS 

DELIVERED   AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF 

IN  TEINITT  CHUECII,  N.  Y.,  ON  THE  23d  OF  SEPTEMBEE,  ISM, 


BY  EDWARD  Y.  HIGBEE,  D.D. 


A  BURDEN  is  laid  upon  me  tliis  day  heavier  than  I  can 
bear.  My  own  spirit  is  not  yet  schooled  to  the  weight  of 
this  affliction.  How  can  I  then,  my  Brethren,  speak  as  your 
teacher  and  your  comforter  ?  Could  personal  grief  and  an- 
guish be  suppressed — could  I  for  the  time  forget' that  my 
faithful  affectionate  friend,  my  associate  and  companion  of 
many  years  lies  there  upon  the  bier ! — could  the  mind  be 
arrested  and  occupied  alone  by  the  great  public  calamity 
which  has  befallen  us — the  hereavement  of  the  Church  in  the 
death  of  the  Bishoj) — still,  so  imexpected  and  so  crushing  has 
been  the  blow,  that  it  must  needs  benumb  and  paralyze  the  suf- 
ferer. As  one  suddenly  hurled  from  some  high  cliif  into  the 
sea,  I  only  hear  the  confused  mournful  sounds  of  death  amid 
the  waves,  save  as  those  sounds  are  overborne  by  God's  awful 


14  ADDRESS. 

voice,  saj'ing  to  all  Iniman  hearts  and  all  human  tongues, 
Be  still!  he  still! 

Pardon  me,  then,  Brethren,  if  my  words  are  few,  and  oh, 
above  all,  pardon  those  few  poor  words  when  you  find  them 
all  inadequate  to  the  scene  and  the  occasion. 

How  utterly  vain,  this  day,  seem  all  human  plans  and 
hopes  and  expectations.  Even  in  the  best  things,  where  the 
aim  and  the  motive  are  true  and  wise,  as  when  faithful  men 
and  charitable  men  conscientiously  and  earnestly  devise  good 
for  humanity,  for  religion,  and  for  the  Church,  how  often 
does  a  higher  power  mysteriously  interpose,  confounding  all 
their  counsels,  apparently  bringing  to  nought  all  their  pur- 
poses, and  teaching  them  that  God  alone  reigneth. 

Two  short  years  ago,  this  Diocese  of  E"ew  York,  deeply 
afflicted  for  a  long  time  in  having  been  deprived  of  the  ser- 
vices of  her  chief  pastor  and  head,  succeeded  in  electing  one 
of  her  most  eminent  Presbyters  to  the  office  of  Provisional 
Bishop.  Sound  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  of  godly  conversation, 
true  to  the  principles  of  the  Church,  of  indefatigable,  self- 
sacrificing  habits  of  industry,  of  gentlest,  most  courteous 
manners,  of  the  kindest,  most  conciliating,  most  charitable 
spirit,  an  accomplished  scholar  and  gentleman,  tried  by  the 
test  of  time,  proved  wortliy  by  the  good  report  of  those  who 
had  best  known  him  from  youth  to  age,  Jonathajst  Mayhew 
Wainwright  was  chosen  to  his  office  amid  the  congratula- 
tions of  the  Church  at  large,  not  only  in  the  United  States, 
but  in  England,  and  with  the  highest  anticipations,  on  the 
part  of  the  great  body  of  the  clergy  and  laity  of  this  Diocese, 
of  the  prosperity  and  peace  of  the  Church  which,  under  the 
divine  blessing,  would  be  the  result  of  their  choice. 

His  nearest  friends,  particularly,  knew  that  these  antici- 
pations were  well  founded.  They  believed  in  his  disposition 
and  his  will  to  use  his  all  of  strength  in  the  service  of  his 
high  calling.     They  had  observed  what  that  strength  was, 


ADDRESS.  15 

physical  as  well  as  intellectual.  Tliey  knew  liis  remarkable 
powers  of  labor  and  of  endurance.  They  liad  long  known 
his  persevering  parochial  diligence.  They  had  marked  in 
him  that  constant  devotion  to  a  round  of  duties  wiiich  would 
be  likely,  even  in  early  life,  to  break  down  the  bodily  if  not 
the  mental  energies  of  an  ordinary  man. 

It  is  true,  that  the  habit  of  his  life  was  to  seek  instruction 
and  refreshment  in  a  varied  and  liberal  range  of  study — that 
no  department  of  letters,  or  of  the  arts,  was  without  interest 
to  him — that  in  the  highest  circles  of  learning,  taste  and  re- 
finement, no  one  was  more  welcome  than  he, — and  that 
strangers  to  him  sometimes  did  not  understand  how  entirely 
these  studies,  tastes  and  habits  were  made  subservient  to  a 
single  end,  namely,  his  faitliful  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  And 
it  is  also  true,  that  he  was  known  as  a  social  man — cheerful, 
and  genial,  and  joyous,  in  the  midst  of  the  friends  who  de- 
lighted to  gather  around  him  at  his  hospitable  home  and 
elsewhere.  And  this,  too,  led  strangers  often  to  mistake  his 
character.  For  he  did  not  "  disfigure  his  face  that  he  might 
ai^pear  unto  men  to  fast"  He  did  not  ostentatiously  enu- 
merate and  proclaim  to  every  one  he  met  the  accomplished 
or  anticipated  varied  and  weary  labors  of  the  preceding  or 
succeeding  hours — his  presence  punctually,  at  the  precise 
time,  wherever  his  public  duties  called  him — his  habitual 
rising  to  his  work  before  the  dawn  of  day — his  midnight 
vigils  of  business,  of  study,  and  of  devotion — his  intervening 
visits  in  sunshine  and  in  storm,  far  and  near,  through  the 
streets  and  lanes  of  the  city,  to  the  cellars  and  the  garrets  of 
poverty,  misery,  sickness  and  death.  His  nearest  friends 
and  associates,  together  with  the  objects  of  his  care,  alone 
knew  these  things.  And  well  did  they  know  the  thorough- 
ness with  which  he  made  all  the  requirements  of  his  sacred 
ofiice,  from  the  least  to  the  greatest,  the  business  and  the 
pleasure  of  his  life. 


16  ADDEESS. 

Again,  his  friends  knew  liow  in  him  the  character  of  tlie 
true  Christian  and  that  of  the  true  patriot  seemed  to  be  united 
and  blended  into  one.  Thej  knew  his  views  of  the  rehation 
which  tlie  Church  bears  to  the  advancing  prosperity  of  this 
new  country,  and  of  the  duties  of  the  Church  arising  out  of 
that  relation. 

He  claimed  and  he  sought  for  the  Church  the  same  pro- 
gress which  distinguishes  our  land  at  large.  He  favored  no 
empirical  ideas  of  progress,  such  as  would  set  aside  or  change 
established  princij^les  or  divine  institutions,  but  a  progress 
which,  keeping  ever  in  view  the  spirit,  the  temper,  the  dis- 
position of  the  time,  the  place  and  the  people,  would  adapt 
its  admimstration  of  spiritual  truth  to  the  present  reality  and 
rational  prospect  of  things,  at  the  same  time  preserving  in- 
violate its  allegiance  to  the  unchangeable  laws  and  ordi- 
nances of  our  God  and  Saviour — a  progress  which  would  ever 
place  Christianity  in  the  van  of  civilization — which  would 
make  answer  to  the  resounding  axe  of  the  hardy  pioneer  with 
the  voice  of  the  morning  and  the  even  song  of  prayer  and 
praise  and  thanksgiving  to  "  the  Lord  our  strength  and  our 
Redeemer" — a  progress  which,  when  the  rich  men  of  the 
world  are  changing  the  prairies  and  the  forests  into  great 
cities,  would  overshadow  those  cities  with  the  benign  spirit 
of  the  everlasting  Gospel,  and  plant  therein,  in  every  square 
and  street,  schools,  and  hospitals,  and  temples  of  the  living 
God — a  progress  which  cries  to  any  Church  found  lagging 
behind  the  mighty  march  of  her  enterprise,  "  Woe  unto  thee  ! 
Tliy  candlestick  shall  be  removed  out  of  its  place !  " — and 
which  to  this  land  and  nation  is  ever  uttering  the  solemn  ad- 
monition, "It  is  as  a  Christian  country  alone  that  thou  art  to 
fulfil  thy  high  destiny,  and  to  maintain  thy  place  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth :  it  is  through  the  Church  of  God  in  the 
midst  of  thee — it  is  through  the  truth  and  charity  of  the  Gos- 
pel, implanted  in  the  hearts  and  controlling  the  lives  of  thy 


ADDEESS.  17 

children,  that  thou  art  to  become  '  the  last  and  the  noblest 
offspring  of  time.' " 

Again,  above  all,  we  believed  Dr.  Wainwright  to  be  one 
who  never,  in  theory  or  in  practice,  separated  the  doctrines 
and  institutions  of  Christ  from  the  charity  of  Christ.  Natu- 
rally kind  and  benevolent,  the  excellent  gifts  of  nature  were 
elevated  into  Christian  principles  ;  and  he  understood,  and 
acted  upon  the  understanding,  that  the  doctrines,  and  ordi- 
nances, and  discipline  of  the  Gospel  were  given  for  good, 
and  not  for  evil ;  for  peace,  and  not  for  strife  ;  for  humility, 
and  not  for  spiritual  pride ;  for  edification,  and  not  for  de- 
struction ;  to  make  man  gentle,  and  forbearing,  and  merciful, 
and  forgiving,  to  his  fellow  man ;  to  "  set  the  desolate  in 
families,"  and  "•  to  satisfy  the  poor  with  bread ;  "  to  raise  up 
the  fallen,  and  not  to  crush  him  into  a  lower  depth  ;  to  reform 
the  erring,  and  not  to  become  an  instrument  of  ^persecution 
to  him ;  to  restore  the  sinner  to  forgiveness  and  peace,  and 
not  to  bind  him  hopelessly  over  unto  death. 

He  preached  Christ,  not  as  calling  down  fire  from  Heaven 
upon  ofienders,  whether  in  faith  or  practice,  but  as  "  all  the 
da}^  long  stretching  forth  his  hands  to  a  disobedient  and  gain- 
saying people." 

A  steadfast  defender  of  the  institutions  of  the  Church,  he 
yet  remembered  that  those  institutions  were  given  only  for 
the  good  of  humanity — that  they  were  made  for  man  and  not 
man  for  them — and  therefore  he  cherished  and  defended  and 
applied  them,  never  in  a  sectarian  spirit,  or  in  a  sectarian 
manner,  but  in  their  divine  and  catholic  meaning,  as  they 
were  fitted  to  heal,  to  comfort,  and  to  save.  His  disposition 
was  to  be  no  man's  enemy  on  account  of  any  difierence  of 
opinion,  or  even  of  faith.  He  treated  no  man  harshly,  or 
bitterly,  or  vindictively,  because  he  deemed  him  a  bad 
Churchman,  or  even  a  bad  Christian ;  but  patiently,  consid- 
^2 


18  ADDRESS. 

erately,  tenderly,  that  he  might  lead  him  to  become  a  better 
Christian  and  a  better  man. 

We  saw  him  in  this  light,  and  we  believed  that  he  was  a 
true  servant  of  Him  who  was  manifested  not  for  the  despair 
but  the  hope,  not  for  the  death  but  for  the  life,  of  the  world ; 
in  humility,  and  fear,  and  love, — a  representative  of  Him 
who  "  doth  not  afflict  willingly  nor  grieve  the  children  of 
men" — a  true  minister  of  "the  faithful  and  compassionate 
High  Priest  who  is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities  " 
■ — a  true  Missionary  of  Him  who  came  to  "  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost."  We  believed  that  the  charity  of 
Christ,  the  end  and  aim,  the  substance  and  reward  of  Christ's 
religion  was  in  his  heart,  and  that  for  the  diffusion  of  that 
charity  far  and  wide  in  the  Church,  he  would  "  labor  mito 
death." 

And  has  it  not  been  so  ?  Have  not  these  anticipations 
been  fulfilled  ?  I  need  not  attempt  to  portray  him  to  you,  my 
Brethren,  in  the  glorious  light  of  the  two  years  of  his  Epis- 
cojDate.  The  record  of  what  he  has  been,  and  of  what  he  has 
done,  of  the  meekness  and  humility  with  which  he  has  borne 
his  great  office,  of  the  full  and  free  offering  of  himself,  body, 
soul  and  spirit,  upon  the  altar  of  its  service,  of  labors  unsur- 
passed since  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  is  known  to  you  all. 
And  the  fruits  of  what  he  has  been  and  of  what  he  has  done, 
the  fruits  of  truth  and  peace,  will  remain  in  the  hearts  of 
thousands  of  the  old,  the  young,  the  rich,  the  poor,  the  cler- 
gymen and  the  laymen  of  this  Diocese.  And  now  look  upon 
him  where  pale  and  silent  he  lies  wrapped  about  "with 
grave-clothes."  There  is  the  result  of  his  work  to  himself! 
He  has  labored  unto  death  /  No,  no  !  that  is  not  the  result 
to  him.  Tliis  day  a  crown  of  life  is  given  to  the  laborer  unto 
death.  "  Tliey  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of 
the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as 
the  stars,  for  ever  and  ever." 


ADDKESS.  19 

One  of  tlie  morning  papers  of  this  city,  yesterday,  in  an- 
nouncing liis  death  used  the  following  touching  words — 
"  Since  the  period  of  his  election  he  has  known  but  little  rest. 
We  have  often  seen  him  wrapped  in  an  ample  cloak,  waiting 
in  severe  storms  the  arrival  of  conveyances  to  take  him  to 
and  from  the  city.  The  clergy  respected  him,  the  laity  sup- 
ported him,  his  friends  honored  and  loved  him." 

"  Waiting,  waiting,  in  severe  storms."  Aye,  in  every 
part  of  the  Diocese  has  he  been  seen  waiting  in  the  summer's 
heat,  and  in  the  winter's  cold !  'No,  not  waiting,  but  every 
where  on  the  great  highways,  and  aside  from  the  thorough- 
fares of  travel,  in  lonely  vales,  and  along  bleak  hills,  braving 
the  inclement  seasons,  and  wet  with  the  unhealthy  dews  of 
night,  he  has  been  seen  pursuing  his  way,  by  any  conveyance 
which  might  be  presented  to  him,  from  one  distant  point  to 
another  to  visit  the  populous  town,  or  the  humble  country 
church,  or  the  obscure  school-house,  hastening  to  bestow  his 
blessing,  whether  on  the  "  great  congregation,"  or  the  "  two 
or  three  gathered  together  "  in  God's  Kame. 

No  consideration  of  personal  convenience  or  comfort,  no 
mere  weakness  and  languor  and  pain,  no  private  interests  or 
social  invitations,  no  anxious  remonstrances  of  his  friends, 
and  they  have  been  many,  were  ever  allowed  to  interfere 
W'itli  his  official  duties,  from  the  greatest  to  the  least. 

My  last  Avords  to  him  were  an  earnest  entreaty  that  in 
case  of  his  recovery  he  would  abstain  from  what  I  considered 
an  excess  of  labor  and  self-sacrifice.  He  replied  that  he  had 
not  been  conscious  of  any  excess,  but  that  if  it  should  please 
God  to  restore  him  to  health  he  would  try  to  follow  the 
advice  of  his  friends,  and  then  his  mind  ran  off  upon  what 
alone  seemed  to  be  of  interest  to  him,  his  pastoral  and  Epis- 
copal plans  and  duties. 

Among  the  minor  duties  of  his  office,  the  last  I  believe 
performed  by  him,  was  his  attendance  at  a  meeting  of  the 


20  ADDRESS. 

Executive  Committee  of  "  The  General  Sunday  School  Tlnion." 
His  mortal  sickness  had  even  then  seized  upon  him.  But 
though  in  fever  and  in  pain,  he  refused  to  leave  his  place  though 
the  session  continued  until  midnight.  On  the  following  even- 
ing there  was  an  adjourned  meeting  of  the  same  Committee. 
His  illness  having  increased,  he  was  unable  to  leave  his  room. 
He  therefore  sent  a  request  to  the  committee,  as  he  wished  to 
meet  them,  to  come  to  his  house.  They  did  so,  and  there, 
almost  in  his  chamber  of  death,  lie  gave  Ms  counsels  to  that 
most  important  institution  of  the  Church.  "  Feed  my  lambs," 
therefore,  may  be  considered  as  the  last  exhortation  that  we 
have  heard  from  his  dying  lips. 

Alas  !  our  "  master  is  taken  from  our  head  to-day."  The 
Held  misses  the  strong  laborer.  The  shield  of  the  warrior  is 
pierced  in  the  battle.  Alas  !  alas,  my  brethren  !  but  not  for 
liim.  His  cares,  his  pains,  his  conflicts  are  over.  The  rough 
consuming  toil,  the  weary  way,  the  heat  and  the  cold  are 
past.  The  midnight  watcher  is  relieved.  The  tempest  no 
more  beats  upon  his  head,  and  the  rude  wind  is  still.  The 
good  soldier  fell  with  his  face  to  the  foe,  and  with  his  armor 
on.  The  faithful  laborer  hath  gone  upward,  not  deserting 
the  harvest,  but  bearing  his  sheaves  with  him.  We,  my 
brethren,  are  the  desolate.  His  bereaved  family  are  the 
desolate.  Lord  God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  do  thou 
comfort  and  sustain  them !  "We  his  flock  are  the  desolate. 
We  are  left  to  wonder,  and  mourn,  and  tremble  under  the 
chastisement  of  the  Almighty. 

Brethren,  I  am  not  here  to  interpret  for  you  this  bereave- 
ment ;  but  perhaps  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  that  it  surely 
reminds  us  of  a  truth  which  in  our  self-sufliciency  and  pride 
we  too  commonly  forget,— namely,  the  sovereignty  of  God, 
the  sovereignty  of  God  alone.  It  warns  us  against  any 
undue  reliance  upon  an  arm  of  flesh.  "  The  Lord  keepeth 
the  city,  or  the  watchman  waketh  but  in  vain."     "  The  Lord 


ADDEESS.  21 

sitteth  above  tlie  water-floods,  and  is  King  for  ever."  So 
tliis  day,  afar  off  from  the  conncil-cliamLers,  the  conven- 
tions, and  the  homes  of  our  wisdom,  our  wishes,  and  our 
aftections,  doth  he  design  and  accomplish  our  healthful  chas- 
tisement ;  and  so  yonder,  even  under  the  apj)arently  destruc- 
tive pressure  of  death,  "  doth  he  give  his  beloved  sleep." 
He  alone  can  make  "  all  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  him."  Let  us  therefore  resign  ourselves,  our 
wisdom  and  knowledge,  our  jDlans  and  prosj^ects,  our  hopes 
and  fears,  ourselves,  our  all,  entirely  and  absolutely  into  his 
hands  who  fulfllleth  his  own  gracious  purposes  concerning  us 
in  his  own  way,  and  in  his  own  time. 

Again,  we  are  surely  taught  to  renew  this  day  the  exami- 
nation of  ourselves,  "  and  that  not  lightly  and  after  the  man- 
ner of  dissemblers  with  God."  To  examine  not  our  neighbo7'S, 
but  ourselves^ — ourselves,  every  one  himself^  and  for  himself, 
individually,  and  personally,  looking  to  "  the  plague  of  his 
own  heart,  searching  out  the  sin  which  God  would  rebuke 
and  chastise,  and  in  dust  and  ashes  under  the  rod  pleading 
for  pardon,  pleading  for  grace  to  correct  and  amend  every 
sinful  habit,  every  harsh  and  wrong  disj^osition,  every  imagi- 
nation and  thought  and  feeling  which  are  not  in  harmony 
with  the  righteousness  and  truth  of  the  Master  whom  we 
serve. 

And  now,  brethren,  we  are  about  to  perform  the  last 
offices  for  our  beloved  friend  and  Bishop.  With  Avhat  fitting 
memorial  shall  we  honor  his  closing  tomb  ?  Can  we  do 
better  honor  to  his  memory  ?  can  we  more  really  and  truly 
promote  our  own  well-being  ?  nay,  can  we  more  earnestly 
and  fully  express  our  faithfulness  to  his  Lord  and  ours,  than 
by  resolving  now  that  we  will  plant  deej)  upon  his  grave, 
with  united  fraternal  hand,  the  heavenly  virtues  of  charity, 
peace,  and  brotherly  love  ?  that  henceforth,  day  by  day,  and 
year  by  year,  we  will  tend  and  cherish  the  trees  of  Divine 


22  ADDEESS. 

promise  tlience  arising — fairest  of  all  tilings  that  adorn  the 
green  eartli — until  tliej  shall  "  fill  the  land,  and  the  hills  be 
covered  with  the  shadow  thereof,"  their  fruits  increasing  and 
maturing  unto  eternal  life. 

And  oh,  if  there  be  in  any  heart  one  germ  of  unfraternal 
feeling,  root  it  out  and  destroy  it  this  day.  If  there  be 
among  us  any  remaining  incarnation  of  the  demon  of  party 
strife,  bury  it  in  the  profoundest  darkness  of  death.  Let  it 
lie  in  the  dust  and  ashes  of  a  sepulchre,  from  whose  doors 
neither  man  nor  angel  shall  ever  roll  away  the  stone 


A    SKETCH,    IK    OUTLIITE 


OF  THE  LATE,  LOVED  AND  LAMENTED, 


BISHOP     WAINWRIGHT. 


"  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother  Jonathan :  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me  :  thy 
love  to  me  was  wonderful." 


It  is  a  pleasing  fancy,  wliicli  the  elder  D'Israeli  has  pre- 
served, somewhere,  in  amber,  that  portrait-painting  had  its 
origin,  in  the  inventive  fondness  of  a  girl,  who  traced,  upon 
the  wall,  the  profile  of  her  sleeping  lover.  It  was  an  outline, 
merely.  But,  love  could  always  fill  it  up  ;  and  make  it  live. 
It  is  the  most,  that  I  can  hope  to  do,  for  my  dear,  dead, 
brother.  But,  how  many  there  are — the  world-wide  circle 
of  his  friends,  his  admiring  diocese,  his  attached  clergy,  the 
immediate  inmates  of  his  heart,  the  loved  ones  of  his  hearth — ■ 
from  whose  informing  breath,  it  will  take  life,  reality,  and 
beauty. 

I  never  felt,  so  tenderly,  the  sacred  trust  of  a  surviving 
friendship,  as  when  Mrs.  Wainwright  announced  to  me  her 


24  MEMOIE. 

purpose  of  piiblisliing  a  Memorial  Volume  of  her  liiTsband's 
sermons  :  and  requested  me  to  furnisli  the  preliminary  sketch 
of  my  faithful  friend,  of  five  and  tliirty  years.  In  an  instant, 
he  was  vividly  before  me  :  as  I  saw  him,  first ;  and,  as  I  saw 
him,  last.  As  I  saw  Mm,  first.,  in  1819,  when  he  had  just 
removed  to  New  York,  in  the  fresh  bloom  of  tw^enty-seven  ; 
alive  to  every  tasteful  theme,  and  every  genial  impulse  : 
and,  yet,  sedate  and  thoughtful,  in  his  youth.  And,  as  I  saio 
him,  last,  when,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  he  had  come,  to 
be  with  me,  at  the  consecration  of  Christ  Chajjel,  in  Elizabeth  : 
and,  hastened,  from  me,  when  the  service  was  completed,  with 
his  sunniest  smile,  to  resume  the  work,  which  he  had  only  in- 
termitted, for  my  sake ;  and  which,  in  little  more  than  two 
months,  brought  him  to  a  grave,  to  all,  untimel}'  but  himself. 

Alas,  how  life  divides  itself; 

The  left,  and  the  departed  : 
Like  funeral  files,  in  double  rows  ; 

The  dead,  the  broken-hearted. 

JoNATUAN  JVIayiiew  WAiNWKiGnT  was  bom  in  Liverpool, 
England,  on  the  24th  day  of  February,  1792.  Peter  Wain- 
wright,  his  father,  was  an  English  merchant,  who  had  estab- 
lished himself,  not  long  after  the  war  of  Independence,  in 
the  city  of  Boston.  Here,  he  married  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  Jonathan  Mayhew,  D.D.,  a  Congregational  minister.  Dr. 
Mayhew  was  a  descendant  of  Sir  Thomas  Mayhew,  one  of 
the  early  settlers  of  the  country,  and  the  first  Governor  of 
Martha's  Vineyard.  He  was  a  Unitarian,  in  doctrine ;  and 
bitterly  opposed  to  Episcopacy.  He  took  an  active  part, 
against  its  introduction,  into  America ;  and  was  engaged,  in  an 
extensive  controversy,  with  Archbishop  Seeker,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Thomas  Bradbury  Chandler,  of  New  Jersey,  and  others.  An 
anecdote,  related  by  a  venerable  Presbyter,  still  spared  to 
the  Church,  which  he  has  served  so  long,  illustrates  well  the 


MEMOIE.  25 

relation,  wliicli  Dr.  Mayhew  held,  toward  the  Church  ;  and 
sheds  a  half-prophetic  ray,  upon  his  grandson's  course.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Eaton,  now,  more  than  forty  years  ago,  was  dining, 
with  a  friend,  at  Cambridge.  In  the  room,  was  a  portrait  of 
Dr.  Mayhew  ;  with  an  inverted  mitre,  in  one  corner.  "  What 
a  pity,"  said  the  guest,  '•  that  Dr.  Mayhew  should  have  felt 
such  enmity,  toward  the  Church,  as  to  have  a  mitre,  upside 
down,  inserted,  in  his  portrait !  "  "  Oh,  well,"  said  the  lady 
of  the  house,  "  perhaps  his  grandson,  Jonathan  Wainwright, 
may  turn  it  back,  again."  "  And  wear  it,  himself,"  said  Dr. 
Eaton,  happily.  The  grandson  had  then  lately  graduated,  at 
Harvard  University  ;  and  had  no  thought  of  entering  the 
ministry. 

Peter  Wainwright  had  returned  to  England  ;  and  was  in 
business,  in  Liverjiool,  when  his  three  children  were  born. 
He  was,  himself,  a  decided  Churchman.  Mrs.  Wainwright 
held  the  theological  views  of  her  father.  She  Avas  a  woman 
of  marked  intellectual  ability,  a  fine  j)oetic  taste,  and  sin- 
gular powers  of  conversation.  Jonathan  was  their  eldest 
child.  Eliza  was  married  to  Dr.  Walter  Channing,  one  of 
the  most  eminent  physicians  of  Boston ;  and  is  deceased. 
Peter  survives,  beloved  and  respected,  by  all  who  know  him. 
The  first  school,  to  which  Jonathan  was  sent,  was  taught  by 
the  daughters  of  the  Pev.  Mr.  Lewin,  a  Dissenting  Minister, 
in  Liverpool.  From  them,  he  went  to  the  school  of  the 
Pev.  Mr.  Hughes,  a  clergyman,  at  Puthven,  in  ISTorth 
Wales.  To  his  instructions  and  example,  he  always  ascribed 
his  attachment  to  the  Church.  ]S"o  doubt,  much  was  also 
due,  to  the  influence  of  his  excellent  God-mother,  Mrs. 
Hartwell  ;  Avith  whom,  he  often  spent  his  holidays,  at 
Holyhead. 

In  1803,  Peter  Wainwright  returned  to  America,  with  his 
family.  Jonathan,  then  eleven  years  old,  was  sent  to  the 
Academy,  at  Sandwich,  on  Cape  Cod ;  at  first,  under  the 


26  MEMOIR. 

tuition  of  the  Eev.  Mr.  Burr :  and,  afterwards,  of  Mr.  Elislia 
Clai^p  ;  under  whose  direction,  he  was  prepared  for  College. 
A  letter,  written,  while  here,  when  but  little  more  than 
twelve  years  old,  illustrates  well  the  saying,  "that  the  child 
is  father  of  the  man."  It  is  one,  of  only  two,  of  his  boyish 
letters,  that  have  been  preserved.  It  is  addressed  to  his  excel- 
lent God-mother,  "  Mrs.  Hartwell,  Holyhead,  Anglesea,  K. 
Wales,  Great  Britain,"  and  dated  "  Sandwich,"  "  August  1st 
1804."  A  boy's  chirography  and  a  boy's  orthography  attest 
its  genuineness. 

"  Dear  Friend,  I  presume  the  Corsican  upstart  has  not 
yet  performed  his  promise,  in  comeing,  to  j)ay  you  a  Visit. 
I  guess,  he  has  got  quite  sick  of  the  notion  ;  and  I  think,  he 
did  well,  in  not  trying  to  come,  and  steal  our  Good  Old  Eng- 
lish Roast  Beef ;  for,  if  he  does,  he  will  be  sure  to  have  his 
head  kicked,  for  a  foot-ball,  by  the  Brave  English  Yolunteers  ; 
and  our  good  old  English  Wooden  Walls  would  send  all  his 
little  dung-boats,  to  Davy's  Locker,  very  soon.     But,  I  think, 
there  is  not  much  danger  of  his  comeing  ;  for.  Queen  Ann's 
pocket-piece  scares  him,  so,  accross  the  little  ditch,  that,  I  be- 
lieve, he  has  given  over  all  the  notion  of  it.     His  threats 
pass  by  us,  like  the  idle  M^ind,  which  we  regard  not ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand.  Squire  Dibden,  with  his  keen  little  songs, 
gives  the  little  gentleman  such  a  shakeing,  that  I  am  affraid 
we  shall  loosen  all  his  joints,  if  he  has  got  any ;  for  he  is 
nothing  but  skin  and  bone.     He  is  not  like  our  true  English 
Tars ;  he  has  no  Eoast  Beef  and  Plumbpudding,  to  make 
him  fat ;  he  lives  upon  nothing  ]5ut  frogs  and  soup  meagre, 
and  a  few  mice,  that  he  and  his  friend  Talley  catch,  upon  the 
broken  walls  of  Aristocracy.     But,  I  must  conclude,  as  my 
pen  is  very  bad.     Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Jackson,  Mr.  Jack- 
son, Dr.  Lloyd,  John  Gething,  and  all  my  friends  there  ;  and 
tell  J.  G.  that  the  boat  he  gave  me  exceeds  all  the  other 
boats  here,  in  sailing  and  handsomeness  ;  and  that  I  shall  not 


MEMOIE.  2*7 

know  how  to  repay  his  kindness,  till  summer.     I  remain 

your  true  British  friend, 

Jonathan  WAm^viiiGHT. 

P.  S.  Pray  overlook  my  mistakes,  this  time,  as  I  am 
in  such  a  hurry." 

"  Great  Britain,  for  ever, 
For  it  makes  little  Bony  quiver  ; 
Huzza,  huzza." 

"  Britains  strike  home  ; 
Huzza,  huzza." 

Was  there  ever  a  more  real  boy's  letter  :  the  "  very  bad 
pen,"  and  the  "P.  S.,"  to  plead  "such  a  hurry,"  included? 
And,  yet,  who  that  knew  him  well,  does  not  see  all  the  man, 
in  it :  his  hearty  Britishness ;  his  love  of  freedom  and  con- 
tempt for  tyrants ;  his  genial  good  humor ;  his  native  cour- 
tesy ;  his  grateful  acknowledgment  of  any  favor  ;  his  joyous 
sense  of  every  enjoyment,  however  small ;  his  exuberant 
good  nature,  so  that  "  a  dinner  of  herbs,"  with  him,  would 
have  a  relish,  which  many  a  sumptuous  feast  fails  to  imjDart ; 
his  simple-hearted  atfectionateness  ?  And,  then,  his  appre- 
ciation of  the  power  of  music,  in  his  allusion  to  "  Squire 
Dibden : "  a  hajopy  confirmation  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
Board  of  Admiralty,  in  distributing  "  his  keen  little  songs," 
among  the  sailors,  as  an  incentive  to  patriotism. 

The  other  letter,  of  his  childhood,  written  four  years  later, 
is  a  fit  companion ;  though  it  shows  great  progress,  in  every 
way  :  well  written,  well  spelled  ;  and  manly,  far  beyond  six- 
teen. It  is  addressed,  to  his  brother,  Peter ;  and  is  dated, 
"  Sandwich,  July  10th,  1808. 

"  My  dear  brother,  I  am  very  glad,  that  you  have  begun 
to  send  me  a  few  lines,  and  hope  you  will  continue  to  do  so. 
It  will  not  only  be  very  agreeable  to  me,  but  also  useful  to 
you ;  as  a  facility  in  expressing  one's  self  in  literary  cor- 


28  MEMOIR. 

respondence  is  almost  indispensably  necessaiy  to  a  mercliant, 
and  a  yeiy  great  and  necessaiy  accomplislmient  to  a  gentle- 
man, who  wishes  to  know  more  than  how  to  hand  a  lady  into 
a  room.  Politeness  is,  indeed,  a  very  desirable  accomiilish- 
ment ;  I  mean,  that  politeness  which  consists  in  making  every 
body  around  you  comfortable  :  not  that  flummery,  that  ex- 
crescence of  gentility,  that  sure  indication  of  an  empty,  brain- 
less, scull,  which  bows,  and  scrapes,  and  says  a  thousand 
pretty  things  ;  but  is  destitute  of  all  that  elevates  and  dig- 
nifies human  nature,  of  all  that  true  politeness  springing 
from  a  good  and  refined  education,  which  softens  the  rough 
and  honest  coloring  of  nature.  To  make  a  bow,  and  hand  a 
lady  into  the  room,  with  propriety,  is  desirable,  and  I  would 
have  you  cultivate  it ;  but,  remember,  that  it  will  not  go 
down,  unless  there  be  the  addition  of  a  stock  of  good  sense, 
w^itli  those  whose  good  opinion  is  worth  obtaining.  You  will 
also  derive  great  benefit  from  cultivating  chirography,  which 
is  an  art  in  tJie  highest  degree  elegant  and  useful.  I  feel 
very  sorry  that  your  taste  had  not  led  you  to  form  some  ac- 
quaintance with  Latin  and  Greek.  You  would  never  have 
repented  it.  The  French  language  is,  still,  in  your  way. 
Make  yourself  thoroughly  acquainted  with  that.  Be  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  history  and  geography.  I  do  not 
know,  whether  being  21  years  older  than  you,  may  give  me 
the  title  of  lecturing  you,  in  this  manner.  But,  I  think  the 
title  of  a  brother,  anxious  for  your  welfare,  may.  The  reeds, 
you  were  so  kind  as  to  buy  me,  answered  very  well.  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you,  for  your  trouble.  Have  you  cleaned 
the  gun  ?     If  not,  I  wish   you   would.     Your  affectionate 

brother,  and  true  friend, 

J.  Mayhew  Waenweight. 

I  expect  another  letter  soon.     Also,  one  from  Ma." 

Here,  we  have,  again,  the  man,  anticipated,  in  the  boy  : 


MEMOIE.  29 

the  sterling  good  sense  ;  the  habitual  regard  to  the  favor- 
able opinion  of  others  ;  the  high  standard  of  attainment  and 
accomplishment ;  the  just  estimate  of  education,  and,  espe- 
cially, in  the  classics  ;  the  admirable  definition  and  exposition 
of  true  j)oliteness,  the  instinctive  practice  of  which  made 
him,  always,  a  perfect  Christian  gentleman.  The  grave 
eulogy  on  "  chirography  "  calls  to  mind  many  a  good-natured 
rap,  on  the  knuckles,  for  my  shocking  bad  hand.  But,  the 
charm  of  the  letter  is  its  fraternal,  almost,  paternal,  aifection- 
ateness  ;  a  charm,  which  beautified  his  life.  I  have  seen  the 
numerous  letters  of  a  life-long  coi'respondence,  with  his 
brother,  Peter  :  and  I  have  never  seen  brotherhood,  in  more 
perfect  beauty.     How  truly,  in  this  case,  the  survivor  dies. 

From  the  Academy,  at  Sandwich,  young  Wainwright 
went,  in  1808,  to  Harvard  University,  at  Cambridge  ;  where 
he  graduated,  in  1812.  Of  his  College  life,  no  details  have 
been  obtained.  Il  is  believed,  that,  during  his  academic  life, 
he  indulged  the  love  of  Sacred  Music,  which  was  a  passion, 
in  him,  by  acting,  gratuitously,  as  the  organist  of  Christ 
Church  ;  at  which,  he  worshii^ped.  Soon  after  his  graduation, 
he  was  appointed  a  Proctor  of  the  University,  and  Instructor 
in  Ehetoric.  He  held  this  office,  for  several  years  ;  and  dis- 
charged its  duties,  with  entire  acceptance.  The  combination 
which  was,  in  him,  of  sterling  sense,  and  exquisite  taste,  with 
a  fine  musical  ear,  made  him  eminent,  through  life,  for  his 
eftective  delivery  ;  and,  especially,  for  the  manner,  in  which, 
he  read  the  service  of  the  Church.  I  never  knew  a  better 
reader.  How  many  hours  have  I  listened  to  him,  with  de- 
light, in  the  early  years  of  our  acquaintance.  Spenser,  Mil- 
ton, Cowper,  Akenside,  Gray,  came  "  mended,  from  his 
tongue."  Not  long  after  he  had  graduated,  he  entered  the 
oflice  of  the  late  William  Sullivan,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  as  a 
Student  of  Law.  But,  the  study  was  not  congenial  to  his 
taste  ;  and  he  abandoned  it.     Determining  to  devote  his  life 


30  MEMOIE. 

to  the  work  of  the  Sacred  Ministry,  he  became  a  candidate 
for  holy  orders  ;  and  pursued  his  theological  studies,  chiefly, 
under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gardiner,  Rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  Boston.  In  1814,  while  thus  occuj^ied,  he  was  in- 
vited to  St.  Johns,  IS'ew  Brunswick,  to  take  charge  of  the 
Academy ;  and  of  the  parish,  when  he  should  be  ordained. 
He  visited  the  place  :  but  the  arrangement  failed ;  and  he 
returned  to  his  office  in  the  University.  "  You  cannot  think," 
he  writes  to  Peter,  "  how  glad  I  am,  to  get  back."  Indeed, 
in  entertaining  this  proposition,  at  all,  which  must  have  been 
very  distasteful  to  one,  in  whom,  the  social  instincts  were  so 
strong,  he  was  influenced,  by  the  highest  human  motives, 
filial  and  fraternal  affection.  "  The  only  thing,  that  could 
induce  me  to  stay  there,"  he  writes  to  his  brother,  "  would 
be,  that  it  should  afford  a  good  situation  for  you,  by  and  by ; 
and  for  Ma  and  Eliza."  In  the  year  1816,  he  was  ordered 
Deacon,  in  St.  John's  Church,  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  by 
Bishoj)  Griswold. 

His  first  parish,  to  which  he  was  called,  while  yet  a 
Deacon,  was  Christ  Church,  Hartford,  Connecticut.  AVhile 
here,  he  was  admitted  to  the  Priesthood,  by  Bishoj)  Hobart ; 
who,  in  a  vacancy  of  the  Diocese,  had  proyisional  charge  of 
it :  and  he  was  instituted  Rector  of  the  Parish,  by  the  same 
Prelate,  on  the  29th  day  of  May,  1818.  It  was  his  first  love ; 
and  he  was  entirely  happy,  in  it.  And  the  more,  when  the 
light  of  human  endearment  came  in,  upon  his  hearth,  to 
brighten,  and  to  sanctify,  it.  He  was  married,  in  August, 
1818,  to  Amelia  Maria,  the  daughter  of  Timothy  Phelps, 
Esq.,  of  New  Haven.  She  survives  him,  with  eight  children. 
Six  went  before  him,  into  rest.  Tlie  closest  intimacy,  from 
the  fall  of  1819,  their  house  always  open  to  me  as  a  home, 
enables  me  to  say,  that  a  fonder  or  more  faithful  wife  and 
mother,  I  have  never  known;  nor  a  brighter  and  happier 
hearth,  or  better  ordered  Christian  household.     I  have  spent 


MEMOIE.  31 

no  hours  more  happily,  beyond  the  circle  of  immediate 
love,  than,  by  that  pastoral  hearth.  Thongh  but  a  short  time 
Rector  of  Christ  Church,  he  made  his  mark,  there.  He  estab- 
lished the  Sunday  School.  At  first,  it  was  in  union  with 
others.  But,  he  soon  withdrew.  lie  was  constant  in  his  per- 
sonal attendance  ;  and  very  happy  in  his  instructions  to  the 
children.  The  first  Missionary  association  in  the  parish  was 
organized  by  him.  And  he  travelled  in  Massachusetts,  as  an 
agent,  to  form  auxiliary  societies.  So  early  was  his  devotion 
to  Sunday  Schools  and  to  Missions. 

In  the  year  1819,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Church  Brownell,  one 
of  the  assistant  Ministers  of  Trinity  Church,  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  was  chosen  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  Connecticut ; 
which,  since  the  death  of  Bishop  Jarvis,  in  1813,  had  con- 
tinued vacant.  To  the  vacancy,  in  Trinity  Church,  thus 
created,  Mr.  Wainwright  was  called,  on  the  25th  day  of  No- 
vember, in  that  year.  I  have,  before  me,  the  letters  of 
Bishop  Hobart  and  Bishop  Brownell,  addressed,  to  him,  on 
the  subject  of  his  removal,  to  New  York  :  and  they  make  out 
a  case  of  clear  and  imperative  duty.  He  yielded,  to  it ;  and 
went,  at  once.  I  was  a  member  of  the  parish,  and  a  candi- 
date for  holy  orders  ;  and  well  do  I  remember  the  welcome, 
which  he  met,  and  the  acceptance,  which  he  secured.  A 
kindredness  of  tastes  and  sentiments,  combined  with  our  en- 
gagement in  the  same  sacred  pursuit,  drew  us  early  together, 
in  the  closest  and  most  congenial  bonds  :  and,  from  that  time, 
till  the  very  moment  of  his  death,  our  friendship  ripened  and 
grew  mellow.  His  labors,  in  this  parish  were  assiduous,  and 
well  directed ;  and  conciliated,  for  him,  the  highest  respect 
and  confidence :  while  his  bland  and  winning  manners,  at- 
tractive to  all,  were  especially  influential  with  the  young. 

During  his  connection,  with  this  mother  of  our  Churches, 
he  declined  an  invitation  to  the  Rectorship  of  Grace  Church, 
in  New  York.     But,  when  the  call  was  repeated,  he  deemed 


32  MEMOIE. 

it  liis  duty  to  accept  it.  This  was  in  1821.  With  all  the 
considerations  which  bound  hini  to  tlie  position,  which  he 
held,  so  happily,  it  was  natural,  that  he  should  yield  to  this 
renewed  invitation,  to  a  joarish,  second  to  none,  but  that,  with 
which  he  was  connected,  in  imj)ortance,  and  influence  for 
good.  Ti'inity  Church,  with  its  chapels,  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  Colleo:iate  Church.  The  Rector  was  the  Pastor.  The 
assistants,  pastors,  also ;  but,  of  course,  in  a  secondary  and 
limited  relation.  They  preached,  in  rotation,  in  the  Church 
and  Chapels :  and  discharged  the  sacred  office,  in  its  imj)ort- 
ant  functions,  towards  the  young,  the  children,  the  poor,  and 
all  the  general  interests  and  objects  of  Christianity,  under 
the  direction  of  the  Kector.  To  a  man  of  Mr.  Wainwright's 
physical  and  intellectual  energy,  and  of  his  enlightened 
and  enlarged  benevolence,  there  would  be  an  inevitable  feel- 
ing of  restraint.  He  was,  with  all  his  gentleness  and  yield- 
ingness,  a  man  of  independent  mind  :  and  bold  and  resolute, 
in  action,  however  mild  and  affable,  in  manner.  He  needed, 
to  make  full  proof  of  his  ministry,  a  separate  j^arish.  He  had 
it,  at  Grace  Church ;  and  he  made  it  the  scene  of  the  most 
assiduous  industry,  and  of  the  widest  influence.  He  spent, 
here,  thirteen  years  of  the  very  vigor  and  lustihood  of  his 
life ;  from  twenty-nine  to  forty-two.  They  developed,  in 
him,  the  fullest  and  best  proportioned  manhood.  They 
demonstrated,  what  a  city  Pastor  can  do,  who  combines 
sound  judgment,  with  earifestness  and  zeal.  They  made  a 
mark,  on  the  whole  Church ;  and  they  made  him,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  whole  Church,  a  man  of  highest  mark  and  likelihood. 
Yery  few  of  our  clergy  have  ever  held  a  position  so  elevated, 
so  widely  regarded,  so  variously  and  deeply  influential,  as 
Dr.  Wainwright,  during  his  Rectorship  of  Grace  Church.  It 
was  when  he  had  been  there,  two  years,  that  the  Trustees  of 
Union  College  conferred,  on  him,  the  honorary  degree  of 
Doctor  in  Divinity  :  as,  was,  subsequently,  done,  by  his  own 


MEMOIE.  33 

Alma  Mater,  at  Cambridge.  Of  Dr.  Wainwriglit's  labors, 
during  this  period  of  liis  life,  I  cannot  give  report,  so  well,  as 
in  tlie  language  of  one,  who  was  his  catechumen  and 
parishioner ;  and  who  is  such  a  seal  of  his  devoted  ministry, 
as  he  may  well  rejoice  in.  I  speak  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Haight ; 
who,  every  body  knows,  in  wide  and  varied  usefulness,  as,  in 
entire  and  unreserving  self-devotion,  has  no  superior,  of  his 
order,  in  the  Church.  "  In  addition  to  the  ordinary  public 
duties  of  the  Sanctuary,  which  he  discharged,  with  fidelity  and 
with  fervor,  his  pastoral  course  was  marked  by  great  attention 
to  other  duties  ;  which,  at  that  period,  were  not  universally 
observed,  by  that  class  of  Divines,  with  which  he  was  con- 
nected. We  refer  to  the  exposition  of  Holy  Scripture,  in 
lectures,  especially  during  the  season  of  Lent ;  the  religious 
instruction  of  the  young ;  and  the  cultivation  of  a  missionary 
spirit,  among  the  people,  at  large.  In  the  first  of  these 
duties,  he  was  pre-eminently  successful.  His  primary  series 
of  lectures,  which  excited,  at  the  time,  great  interest,  was  on 
the  Gospel  Karrative,  harmonized.  To  prepare  his  peoj)le, 
for  a  more  profitable  attendance,  on  his  exj^osition,  he  made 
out  and  j)rinted  an  outline  of  the  subjects  :  and  advised  and 
encouraged  them,  to  form  the  Harmony,  for  themselves  ;  tljat 
they  might  have  the  very  passages  before  them,  on  which  he 
lectured,  for  use,  then,  and,  for  reference,  afterwards,  in  their 
private  study,  at  home.  This  was  done  by  many  of  his 
parishioners  ;  and  added  much  to  the  interest  and  value  of 
his  instructions.  He  was  remarkably  happy,  in  his  lectures : 
which,  though  carefully  prej^ared,  were  not  written ;  and 
never  failed  to  secure  the  attention  of  his  auditors.  This 
practice,  he  continued,  to  the  close  of  his  life,  even  after  his 
elevation  to  the  Episcopate.  The  last  course,  which  he  de- 
livered, was  during  the  Lent  season,  following  his  consecra- 
tion, in  St.  John's  Chaj)el,  ]!^ew  York.  He  was  attentive  to 
the  duty  of  catechising  the  lambs  of  his  flock :  and  always 


34:  MEMOIE. 

took  a  deep  interest  in  tlie  Sunday  School.  Several  of  our 
clergy,  wlio  are  now  occupying  prominent  positions  in  the 
Church,  were  engaged  with  him,  as  catechists,  at  this  j)eriod." 
"  In  the  fuliilment  of  this  part  of  his  pastoral  trust,  he  pre- 
pared and  preached  a  course  of  sermons,  on  Christian  Educa- 
tion ;  which  were  so  well  received  by  his  congregation,  that 
they  were  published,  by  request.  They  were  earnest,  able, 
discourses ;  and  well  calculated  to  produce  a  deep  impres- 
sion, on  his  auditors.  The  same  feeling,  which  led  him,  to 
be  thus  careful  of  the  interests  of  the  young,  more  immedi- 
ately under  his  pastoral  care,  impelled  him  likewise  to  seek 
the  welfare  of  the  children  of  the  poor,  in  his  neighborhood. 
Accordingly,  the  charity-school  of  Grace  Church  was  estab- 
lished; and  continued,  in  successful  operation,  under  his 
auspices."  "  We  referred  also  to  his  agency,  in  the  work  of 
Missions.  At  the  period,  of  which  we  are  now  speaking,  our 
Church  had  not  manifested  any  special  interest,  in  the  exten- 
sion of  the  blessings  of  the  Gosj^el,  beyond  the  bounds  of  her 
organized  dioceses ;  whether,  at  home,  or  abroad.  Missions,  in 
the  broad,  full,  sense  of  the  term,  was  comparatively  a  strange 
topic ;  and,  on  some  accounts,  and,  in  certain  quarters,  not  a 
popular  one. 

"  The  subject,  however,  had  taken  hold  of  the  mind  and  the 
heart  of  the  Kector  of  Grace  Church ;  and,  when  called  upon, 
to  preach,  before  the  Directors  of  the  Domestic  and  Foreign 
Missionary  Society — then,  a  feeble  association,  with  hiit  four 
missionaries,  in  the  whole  field,  and  a  revenue  of  only  two 
thousand  dollars — he  pronounced  a  discourse,  which  electri- 
fied the  Church ;  and  aided  very  largely  in  awakening,  in 
the  minds  of  Churchmen,  that  higher  sense  of  their  responsi- 
bilities and  duties,  which,  we  trust,  has  been  gaining  strength, 
as  years  have  rolled  on."  "  This  eloquent  sermon  was 
preached,  on  Tuesday,  May  13,  1828,  in  St.  James'  Church, 
Philadelphia."     "Three  months  after  the  preaching  of  this 


MEMOIE.  35 

Missionary  Sermon,  anotlier,  of  like  character,  was  preached, 
by  him,  in  Christ  Church,  Hartford,  on  the  occasion  of  form- 
ing the  African  Mission  School  Society,  August  18,  1828 ; 
which  was  also  published,  at  the  request  of  the  Directors," 
"  In  instructing  his  parishioners,  in  their  duty,  in  this  great 
work  of  spreading  abroad  the  comfortable  Gospel  of  Christ, 
and  in  animating  them  to  its  performance,  he  made  use,  not 
only  of  the  teaching  of  the  pulpit ;  but  of  other  modes  of  ac- 
cess, to  their  understandings,  and  their  hearts.  Among 
these,  was  that  of  missionary  meetings  for  addresses,  and 
other  exercises  ;  which,  at  that  time,  in  New  York,  were 
accounted  novelties,  which  were  not  to  be  received,  without 
very  close  scrutiny.  In  these  pastoral  labors,  in  which,  to 
use  his  own  language,  '  he  found  his  highest  and  best  plea- 
sures,' among  'a  people,  with  whom,  his  intercourse  was 
every  way  delightful;  and  who  received  his  ministrations 
with  an  uniform  and  aifectionate  attention,  which  it  was  his 
daily  and  most  ardent  prayer  justly  to  deserve  ; '  he  passed 
thirteen  years  of  the  prime  and  vigor  of  his  life."  A  frequent 
and  familiar  inmate  of  his  house,  during  the  whole  of  this 
period,  I  venture  to  express  the  belief,  that  there  never  was 
a  hapj)ier  pastoral  connection.  He  had  collected  an  exten- 
sive library,  admirably  chosen.  He  found,  or  made,  the 
leisure,  amid  his  numerous  and  arduous  duties,  to  be  much 
among  his  books.  He  cultivated,  most  ardently,  his  love  for 
Sacred  Music,  which  was  carried  to  great  perfection  by  his 
choir :  and  made  it  tell,  most  beneficially,  throughout  the 
land,  in  increased  attention,  to  the  subject,  in  his  "  Music  of 
the  Church."  His  hearth  was  the  centre  of  the  most  refined 
and  generous  hospitality.  And,  strangers,  of  every  clime, 
w^ere  attracted,  about  him,  by  his  cultivated  tastes,  his  wide 
and  varied  information,  his  elegant  manners,  and  his  kind 
and  sympathizing  heart.  With  all  this,  he  was,  "in  sim- 
plicity, a  child."     A  brief  run  into  the  country,  a  visit  from 


36  MEMOIE. 

an  old  friend,  a  social  supper  on  some  cold  meat  and  a  potato, 
would  overflow  liim,  with  delight. 

Two  passages  of  his  life,  during  this  happy  pastorship, 
were  aside  from  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  ;  and  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  his  j^eace-loving  nature.  They  were  controversial, 
in  their  character.  And  they  involved  a  serious  difference, 
with  his  Bishop.  There  are  few,  living,  to  whom  they  would, 
now,  recall  themselves.  Yet,  they  claim  a  place,  even  in  this 
sketch,  in  outline.  His  most  loving  friends  need  not  regret 
the  record.  The  magnanimity  of  his  concession  was  more 
than  overpayment  of  his  error.  I  relate  them,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  him,  to  whom  I  have  already  expressed  my  obli- 
gation. "There  are  two  subjects,"  "in  connection  with  Dr. 
Wainwright's  first  residence  in  New  York,  which  deserve  a 
passing  notice.  His  churchmanship  was  put  to  the  test — and 
a  rather  severe  one — ^by  the  action  of  his  Diocesan,  the  Et. 
Kev.  Bishop  Hobart,  in  publicly  expressing,  in  a  pastoral 
letter,  his  disapj^robation  of  the  Clerical  Association,  of  the 
City  of  New  York,  which  Dr.  Wainwright  had  joined.  On 
the  appearance  of  the  Pastoral,  Dr.  Wainwright,  at  once, 
withdrew,  from  the  Association ;  giving  his  reasons,  for  his 
action,  in  a  letter  to  that  body.  '  The  good,  anticipated  from 
our  Association,  is  not,  in  my  estimation,  so  large,  in  amount, 
as  to  make  adherence  to  it  a  matter  of  conscience  :  while  the 
evils  of  pursuing  a  measure,  in  op230sition  to  the  j)romulgated 
sentiments  of  the  Bishop,  and,  thus,  run  the  hazard  of  making 
it  a  point  of  party  distinction,  are  so  great,  that  the  duties 
of  Christian  humility  and  forbearance  enjoin  me  to  desist.' 
In  the  close  of  his  letter,  he  speaks  of  his  withdrawal,  as  a 
painful  act ;  'a  sacrifice,  required  by  a  solemn  sense  of  duty.' 
It  may  be  well,  here,  to  add,  that  the  course,  taken,  on  this 
occasion,  by  the  lion-hearted  Bishop  of  New  York,  received 
the  warm,  and  almost,  unanimous  approbation  of  the  Clergy 
and  Laity  ;  as  a  wise  measure,  looking  to  the  future  welfare 


MEMOIE.  SY 

of  the  Diocese  and  the  Church,  Tlie  other  point,  to  which 
we  alluded,  was  the  connection  of  Dr.  Wainwright,  with  the 
New  York  University.  At  its  inception,  he  took  a  decided 
part,  in  favor  of  the  new  institution  :  believing,  that  it  could 
be  made — in  accordance  with  the  professions  of  its  founders — • 
a  University,  properly  so  called.  Bishop  Hobart,  w^ith  that 
sagacity  and  knowledge  of  men  and  things,  by  which  he  was 
so  eminently  characterised,  foresaw,  that  it  would  not.  Dr. 
"Wainwright,  however,  under  the  influence  of  a  naturally 
sanguine  temperament,  hoped  better  things.  But,  as  soon  as 
he  saw,  that  it  would  only  be  a  rival  institution  to  Columbia 
College,  under  a  different  preponderating  religious  influence, 
he  withdrew,  from  his  connection,  witli  it.  On  his  elevation 
to  the  Episcopate,  he  w^as  re-elected  a  Trustee  of  Columbia 
College — which  office  he  had  resigned,  at  the  period,  of  which 
we  are  now  speaking — and  zealously  devoted  himself,  so  far 
as  he  was  able,  to  a  vigorous  support  of  its  position  and  influ- 
ence." In  both  these  cases,  there  w^as  the  same  ardent  desire 
to  do  the  highest,  and  the  most  extensive,  good  ;  the  same 
childlike  simplicity  of  confidence,  in  the  sincerity  of  others  ; 
the  same  prompt  and  generous  sacrifice  of  private  judgment, 
to  the  claims  of  duty  ;  the  same  nobility  of  nature,  in  ac- 
knowledging and  retrieving  an  error.  He  was  a  man,  whose 
"  failings  leaned,  to  virtue's  side." 

At  the  end  of  those  thirteen,  years  of  happiness  and  use- 
fulness, in  the  Rectory  of  Grace  Church — alas,  no  longer  of 
the  things,  that  are  ! — a  change  passed  over  his  life.  The 
ancient  parish  of  Trinity  Church,  in  Boston,  had  been  more 
than  a  year,  without  a  Kector ;  and  was  suffering  greatly, 
from  the  vacancy.  The  venerable  Bishop  of  the  Eastern 
Diocese  was  advanced  in  years,  with  gathering  infirmities  ; 
there  were  divisions,  in  sentiment  and  action,  among  those 
of  the  same  household  ;  and  there  was  a  general  state  of 
unsatisfactoriness,  in  the  Church,  in  Massachusetts.     Under 


38  MEMOIR. 

these  circumstances,  liis  prominence  in  the  Church,  his  emi- 
nent success,  as  a  preacher  and  as  a  j^astor,  and  his  well- 
deserved  reputation  as  a  man  of  peace,  averse  to  all  extremes  ; 
and  the  consideration,  peculiarly  attractive  to  Boston  people, 
that  he  had  been  a  Boston  man,  directed  attention,  strongly, 
to  Dr.  AVainwright.  The  urgent  call  of  the  Yestry  of  Trinity 
Church  was  seconded  and  enforced,  by  several  represen- 
tations, from  Clergymen  and  Laymen,  of  the  highest  con- 
sideration, in  the  Church.  It  seemed  to  be  a  call  of  duty. 
It  was,  certainly,  a  sacrifice.  He  went.  He  was  welcomed 
back,  to  the  haunts  of  his  youth,  with  the  utmost  cordiality. 
His  old  friends  rallied,  about  him.  New  friends  were  ga- 
thered, to  them.  The  parish  was  encouraged,  and  reinforced. 
A  better  organ  was  needed  :  and  he  was  sent  to  England,  to 
procure  its  construction  ;  with  a  most  liberal  provision,  for 
his  personal  expenses,  abroad.  It  was  the  land  of  his  birth. 
It  was  the  land  of  his  heart.  Scarcely  any  one  ever  went 
abroad,  with  a  better  j^reparation,  for  the  highest  enjoyment. 
Scarcely  any  one  ever  more  completely  realized  his  most 
sanguine  exj)ectations.  His  letters,  to  his  beloved  wife,  run 
over,  with  delight.  He  went,  from  England,  into  France, 
Switzerland  and  Germany  ;  and  returned  to  Boston,  after  an 
absence  of  eight  months.  The  acquaintances  which  he 
formed  in  England  were  numerous  and  valuable.  Many  of 
them  continued  their  correspondence  with  him,  till  his  death. 
A  most  interesting  result,  of  his  visit  to  Europe,  was  the  inti- 
mate acquaintance,  under  circumstances  of  peculiar  con- 
fidence and  tenderness,  with  the  venerable  Dean  Pearson,  the 
biographer  of  Claudius  Buchanan  and  of  Schwartz,  and  the 
friend  of  Middleton,  and  Ileber,  and  of  all  good  men.  The 
numerous  letters,  from  this  interesting  family,  show,  how 
completely  their  American  friend  was  domiciliated,  in  their 
hearts.  A  recent  letter,  from  his  son,  the  He  v.  Hugh  Pear- 
son, Yicar  of  Sonning,  affords  a  touching  j)roof  of  their  aflec- 


MEMOIR.  39 

tionate  respect.  It  is  addressed  to  Mrs.  "Wainwriglit.  "  It 
was  a  great  gratification  to  me,  that  yon  slionld  wish  to  have 
a  memorial  of  Sonniiig,  to  connect  with  the  memory  of  the 
dear  Bishop.  In  the  repairs  of  my  Chnrch,  wliich  were  going 
on,  when  he  was  last,  in  England,  tlie  ivy  was  removed, 
from  the  tower.  Bnt,  we  had  carefully  taken  up  some  roots, 
from  the  churchyard  wall,  which  closely  adjoins  the  tower  ; 
and  packed  them  in  moss.  So  that  I  think,  they  will  survive 
the  voyage.  I  hope  you  will  receive  the  little-box  safely." 
How  beautiful  an  emblem  of  the  love  of  Christian  hearts,  the 
clinging,  climbing  ivy  ;  for  ever  upward,  and  for  ever  green. 
Dr.  Wainwright  did  not  remain  long  in  Boston,  after  his 
return,  from  Europe.  His  parochial  and  social  relations 
were,  indeed,  all  that  could  be  desired.  But,  the  chief  ground 
of  his  removal,  there — and  so  it  was  distinctly  understood,  by 
the  Yestry  of  Grace  Church  ;  whose  deportment,  in  a  transac- 
tion, which  cost  them  such  a  Pastor,  and  such  a  friend,  was 
most  generous  and  graceful — was  the  promotion  of  the  gen- 
eral welfare  of  the  Church.  This  was  more  easy  to  be  de- 
sired, than  done.  His  presence  was  less  influential,  than  had 
been  hoj^ed,  in  reconciling  discordant  interests,  in  the  Dio- 
cese. And,  worst  of  all,  he  found  himself  forced  into  a  posi- 
tion of  partisanship,  which  it  had  been  the  yearning  of  his 
heart,  and  labor  of  his  life,  always  to  avoid.  After  his  re- 
moval to  Boston,  some  changes  had  been  introduced  into  the 
parochial  arrangements  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York;  by 
which  a  more  positive  position  and  definite  responsibility 
were  secured,  to  the  assistant  ministers,  and  a  pastoral  care, 
in  one  or  other  of  the  Chapels,  assigned  to  each  of  them. 
The  yearning  for  him,  which  was  still  alive  and  active,  in  his 
old  parishioners  and  friends,  led  to  his  being  invited,  as  an 
assistant  minister  of  Trinity  Church  ;  a  little  more  than  two 
years,  after  he  had  gone  to  Boston.  He  declined  the  invita- 
tion.    But,  when,  a  year  later,  in  January,  1838,  after  fuller 


40  l^EEMOIE. 

conviction,  that  the  general  aim  of  his  removal  to  Massachu- 
setts, in  the  pacific  influence  of  his  character,  upon  the  unset- 
tled condition  of  affairs,  would  not  be  realized,  the  invitation 
was  renewed,  it  was  not  at  all  to  be  wondered  at,  that  it  was 
accepted.  And,  great  as  were  the  regret  and  disappointment 
of  his  Boston  parishioners  and  friends,  at  losing  him,  from 
among  them,  thej  acquiesced,  in  the  decision,  as  justified,  by 
high  considerations  of  duty  to  the  Church,  with  the  same  no- 
bility of  spirit,  as  had  been  manifested,  in  Grace  Church, 
four  years  before.  In  returning  to  ITew  York,  to  the  Parish, 
which  had  brought  him,  from  his  first  care,  eighteen  years 
before,  the  congregation  of  St.  John's  Chapel  were,  more  es- 
pecially assigned  to  him  ;  with  general  duty,  in  Trinity 
Church,  and  both  the  Chapels.  In  this  connection,  he  con- 
tinued seventeen  years :  laboring  most  faithfully,  most  as- 
siduously, most  successfully,  for  the  souls,  committed  to  his 
care ;  and  foremost  in  every  good  word  and  work,  whether 
in  his  parochial  relations,  and  the  promotion  of  learning  and 
benevolence,  in  the  great  city,  where  his  post  had  been  ap- 
pointed, or  in  the  wider  sphere  of  the  diocesan,  or  general, 
organization  of  the  Church.  The  mere  enumeration  of  his 
more  public  trusts  and  duties  is  appalling.  He  was,  many 
yeai's,  a  member  of  the  Standing  Committee,  of  the  Diocese 
of  ]!^ew  York.  He  represented  the  Diocese,  in  the  General 
Convention,  of  1832.  He  was  Secretary,  of  the  House  of 
Bishops,  from  1841,  until  after  his  consecration,  in  1852.  He 
was,  for  several  years,  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Ti'ustees  of 
the  General  Theological  Seminary.  He  was  in  the  direction 
of  Trinity  School,  the  oldest  Church-School,  in  America ;  of 
the  Society  for  the  promotion  of  Religion  and  Learning,  in 
the  State  of  New  York ;  of  the  New  York  Bible  and  Com- 
mon Prayer  Book  Society ;  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Tract 
Society ;  and  of  the  General  Sunday  School  Union,  of  the 
Church.     These  are  but  some  of  his  ecclesiastical  trusts.     In 


MEMOIE.  41 

every  enterprise  for  tlie  promotion  of  Letters,  Science,  and 
Art,  in  every  philanthropic  enterprise,  his  was  a  leading 
mind,  and  his  an  nrgent  hand.  For,  he  accepted  none  of 
these  positions,  for  the  mere  compliment,  which  they  in- 
volved. He  engaged  in  their  responsibilities  and  duties,  as 
a  conscientious  obligation :  and  he  worked,  I  personally  know, 
in  every  one  of  them,  as  if  he  had  no  other.  No  one,  that 
did  not  live  with  him,  could  imagine  the  variety  and  extent 
of  these  labors  of  love.  How,  he  found  time  for  them,  and, 
yet,  neglected  no  immediate  j)astoral  duty,  nor  was  wanting 
to  any  social  or  domestic  claim,  would  be,  to  any  other,  than 
an  inmate  of  his  house,  a  matter  of  just  surprise.  It  was  by 
constant,  cheerful,  systematic  industry,  on  a  high  religious 
principle.  He  was  never,  in  a  hurry.  He  never  seemed 
overburdened.  But,  he  rose  early.  He  laid  his  work  out, 
carefully.  He  pursued  it,  constantly.  His  heart  was  in  it. 
It  was  with  him,  as  it  was  with  Jacob,  in  the  service  of  his 
love,  for  Rachel.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  multifarious  care 
and  work,  how  pleasant  he  was,  how  playful !  Always, 
time,  to  be  happy,  with  an  old  friend.  Always,  time,  to  be 
social,  with  those  whose  claims  were  just,  upon  his  social- 
ness.  Always,  ready  to  enter,  heart  and  soul,  into  any  thing, 
that  made  for  Christian  cheerfulness  and  fellowship.  A  more 
delightful  companion,  in  the  unreservedness  of  familiar  love, 
I  never  knew. 

There  were  those,  who,  from  the  moderation  and  love  of 
peace,  which  were  such  marked  characteristics  of  Dr.  Wain- 
wright,  inferred  indifference,  in  him,  to  great  principles,  and 
a  slack  Churchmanship.  And,  there  were  those,  who  saw, 
in  him,  the  man  of  elegant  letters,  and  the  eloquent  preacher, 
without  the  nerve,  the  vigor,  or  the  materiel  for  learned  dis- 
putation, and  sharp  controversy.  An  occurrence,  during  his 
later  residence,  in  New  York,  disabused  all  such.  The  orator 
of  the  New  England  Society,  in  New  York,  at  the  Anniver- 


42  MEMOIE. 

saiy  of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  at  Plymouth,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1843,  was  that  eminent  lawyer  and  most  eloquent 
speaker,  Kufus  Choate,  of  Massachusetts.  In  the  course  of 
his  oration,  he  had  spoken  of  the  Puritan  exiles,  in  the  reign 
of  Mary,  as  having  sought  an  asylum,  in  Geneva,  where 
"  they  found  a  state,  without  a  King,  and  a  Church,  without 
a  Bishop  :  "  a  sentence,  which  was  received,  by  the  audience, 
with  "  long  continued,  and  tumultuous,  cheering."  At  the 
public  dinner,  on  that  day,  Dr.  Wainwright  was  called  upon, 
to  reply  to  the  toast,  "  The  Clergy  of  New  England." 
He  did  so.  In  the  course  of  his  remarks,  he  repeated  the 
sentence,  above  quoted ;  and  was  interrupted  by  loud  cheers. 
"  Now,  Sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  presiding  officer, 
"  notwithstanding  this  strong  burst  of  approbation,  to  the 
sentiment,  were  this  a  proper  arena,  should  even  the  orator 
of  the  day  throw  down  his  gauntlet,  I  would  take  it  up  ;  and 

say,  THERE   CANNOT  BE  A   CuUECH,  WITHOUT  A  BiSHOP."       And, 

when  an  eminent  Presbyterian  Minister,  of  the  city  of  New 
York,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Potts,  addressed  a  letter,  to  him,  in 
"  The  Commercial  Advertiser,"  of  that  city,  calling  him  to 
account,  for  what  he  had  said ;  and  declaring  himself  ready 
to  debate,  with  him,  the  position,  that  "  there  cannot  be  a 
Church,  without  a  Bishop,"  Dr.  AYainwright  promi3tly  re- 
plied :  "  You  have  seen  fit  to  give  me,  what  I  offered,  to  no 
one,  at  the  New  England  dinner,  '  a  challenge  and  a  defi- 
ance.' I  quote  your  words — '  I  will  hold  myself  to  prove, 
that  this  proposition '  '  is  pregnant  with  innumerable  evil 
consequences,  theological,  social  and  civil ;  and,  that  it  is  un- 
scriptural,  uncharitable,  schismatical,  and  anti-republican,  in 
its  character.'  I  deny  your  assertion,  in  all  its  length  and 
breadth  ;  and  hold  myself  ready  to  maintain  my  denial,  the 
moment  you  will  enable  me  to  do  so,  by  advancing  the  argu- 
ment, on  which  you  found  your  assertion,"  Here  was  a 
trumpet  blown,  with  no  "  uncertain  sound."   From  that  time, 


MEMOIR.  43 

none  could  doubt,  as  to  the  Cliurclimansliip  of  Dr.  Wain- 
wriglit,  or  his  bravery,  or  his  vigorous  ability,  or  his  available 
and  various  learning.  "What  Dr.  Ilaight  has  written,  states 
well  the  course  and  issue  of  the  controversy.  "  On  one  occa- 
sion, only,  do  wo  lind  Dr.  Wainwright  appearing,  as  a  con- 
troversialist :  and,  then,  it  is  with  great  credit,  to  himself,  and 
with  honor  and  advantage,  to  the  Church ;  whose  principles 
he  triumphantly  defended.  We  refer  to  his  letters  to  the 
Eev.  Dr.  Potts,  a  distinguished  Presbyterian  Divine,  of  ]^ew 
York,  on  the  question,  whether  there  can  be  a  Church,  with- 
out a  Bishop.  In  this  controversy,  he  ably  maintained  the 
doctrine  of  the  Church  :  exhibiting  a  full  acquaintance  with 
the  facts  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  and  an  accurate  know- 
ledge of  the  Presbyterian  standards,  by  which,  he  drove  his 
antagonist  oif,  from  the  old  platform  of  his  denomination, 
and  compelled  him  to  take,  substantially,  that  of  the  Congre- 
gationalists  ;  very  much  to  the  chagrin  and  annoyance  of  his 
co-religionists.  This  controversy  attracted  great  attention,  at 
the  time ;  from  the  circumstances  in  Avhich  it  originated,  and 
from  the  high  reputation  which  both  the  combatants  enjoyed, 
as  scholars  and  divines :  and  was  the  means,  doubtless,  un- 
der God,  of  strengthening  the  position  of  the  Church."  It 
was  obvious,  at  the  time  of  it,  that  the  whole  country  was 
deeply  interested,  in  this  discussion.  The  papers  of  Dr. 
Wainwright  contain  conclusive  evidence,  that  it  pervaded  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  in  the  letters,  which  came  in  to 
him,  from  every  quarter ;  encouraging  and  commending  him. 
The  unquestionable  ability,  which  he  displayed,  was  beauti- 
fully set  off,  to  those  who  knew  him  privately,  by  his  humility 
and  modesty. 

A  striking  illustration  of  his  unwearied  industry,  and  of 
his  zeal  in  the  cause  of  education,  in  its  best  and  highest  sense, 
is  not  generally  known.  When  his  eldest  daughter  had  left 
school,  he  deeply  felt,  that  her  education  was  not  complete  ; 


44  MEMom. 

that  the  system  was  imperfect.  Under  this  conviction,  he 
established  a  class,  for  young  ladies,  to  be  attended,  with  his 
own  daughters ;  to  carry  out  a  full  course,  in  history,  litera- 
ture and  philosophy.  It  was  composed  of  young  ladies,  of 
the  highest  position  and  influence.  Many  of  them  are,  long 
since,  wives  and  mothers.  And,  among  the  stores  of  his 
vast  and  varied  correspondence,  there  are  no  letters  more 
touching,  or  more  precious,  than  those,  in  which,  these 
daughters  of  the  Church  express  their  deep  sense  of  their  in- 
debtedness, for  his  instruction.  JSTor,  was  his  interest  in  edu- 
cation, limited,  thus.  In  the  absence  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Muh- 
lenberg, the  admirable  Founder  and  Head  of  St.  Paul's  Col- 
lege, from  the  country.  Dr.  "Wainwright  removed  his  family 
to  Flushing  ;  and  took  the  charge  of  it.  Well,  do  I  remember 
the  day,  when,  at  Mr.  Stuy vesant's  delightful  country-seat,  at 
Belleville,  he  came,  to  meet  me,  to  consult  me,  as  to  this  un- 
dertaking. How  his  heart  melted,  and  his  tongue  glowed,  as 
he  dilated,  on  the  power  and  value  of  Christian  nurture  and 
training.  In  truth,  his  sympathies  and  tastes  were  essentially 
academic ;  and  he  would  have  graced  any  one  of  the  Col- 
leges, at  Oxford,  or  at  Cambridge.  His  papers  contain  out- 
lines of  many  courses  of  lectures,  prepared  by  him,  on  vari- 
ous subjects  ;  on  History,  on  Eloquence,  on  Architecture. 
He  was  an  elegant  and  various  scholar.  And,  what  does  not 
always  go,  with  scholarship,  it  set  his  heart  a-glow,  so  that 
his  words  burned. 

In  the  year  1848,  he  had  a  severe  attack  of  Avhooping- 
cough.  In  his  devotion  to  his  work,  he  had  gone  on  to 
preach,  through  it.  The  consequences  became  so  serious, 
that  his  physician  required  a  total  intermission  of  all  public 
duties.  The  Vestry  of  Trinity  Church,  wdth  characteristic 
liberality,  voted  him  one  year's  leave  of  absence  ;  continuing 
his  salary,  and  providing,  liberally  for  his  expenses,  in  going 
abroad.      He  was  absent,  from  September,  1848,  to  October, 


MEMOIR.  45 

1849 ;  being  accompanied  to  Europe  by  a  portion  of  his 
family.  They  remained  at  Rome  ;  where,  as  it  turned  out, 
they  were  exposed  to  the  horrors,  if  not,  the  dangers,  of  the  siege : 
while  he  went,  in  company  with  one  of  the  merchant-princes 
of  New  York,  his  most  aiFectionate  and  faithful  friend,  to 
Egypt  and  the  Holy  Land.  His  letters,  to  Mrs.  "Wainwright, 
are  most  graphic  and  interesting.  I  do  not  know  a  traveller, 
with  a  keener  eye,  or  readier  hand.  In  the  simplest  way,  he 
puts  you,  into  his  position :  and  you  see,  as  he  saw  ;  and  hear, 
what  he  heard.  Nothing  is  exaggerated,  or  overdrawn.  It 
is  an  unaifected  household  narrative ;  such  as  might  have 
occupied  the  winter  evenings,  by  his  own  fire-side.  Two 
beautiful  volumes,  "  The  Pathways  and  Abiding  Places  of 
our  Lord,"  and  "  The  Land  of  Bondage,"  embody,  in  part, 
his  observations,  on  these  journeyings.  They  were  elegantly 
printed,  by  the  Appletons ;  and  are  widely  and  favorably 
known.  His  literary  labors  were  very  numerous.  He  pub- 
lished many  Sermons  and  Addresses,  by  request  of  those,  at 
whose  instance,  they  were  delivered.  He  edited  many 
valuable  books.  He  superintended,  with  great  care  and 
labor,  the  American  edition  of  the  Illustrated  Prayer  Book. 
And  he  was,  with  the  Eev.  Dr.  Coit,  the  chief  working  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee,  of  the  General  Convention,  to  prepare 
the  Standard  Edition  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  Dr. 
Coit  had  made  it  a  condition  of  his  superintending  the  revi- 
sion, that  Dr.  Wainwright  should  be  associated,  with  him. 
In  his  report,  to  the  Committee,  in  1844,  Dr.  Coit  thus  speaks 
of  his  labors,  in  that  connection:  "You  well  know  his  deep 
interest,  in  the  trust  committed  to  us ;  and,  how,  of  his  gener- 
ous, unprompted,  will,  he  exerted  himself,  among  his  friends, 
to  secure  us  a  sum  of  money,  which  would  enable  us  to  print 
a  new  book,  with  a  press,  under  our  entire  control.  Dr. 
AVainwright,  with  the  same  kindness,  which  led  him  to  exert 
himself,  otherwise,  for  our  benefit,  again  came  forward  ;  and 


46  MEMOIR. 

gave  his  pledge,  to  cany  a  new  book,  through  tlie  press ;  and 
revise  it,  with  me.  And  he  has  redeemed  that  pledge,  nobly. 
A  new  fount  of  type  has  l>een  cast,  for  our  express  use  ;  sheets 
of  his  beautiful  illustrated  edition  of  the  Prayer-Book  have 
been  placed,  before  me,  to  be  prejiared,  as  copy,  so  that  1 
might  start,  with  all  the  advantage  of  his  former  valuable 
labors,  ready  to  my  hand  ;  and  he  has  revised,  with  me,  the 
proofs  of  our  own  book ;  word  for  -word,  capital  by  capital, 
italic  by  italic,  point  by  jjoint,  with  the  most  unwearied  as- 
siduity and  patience,  the  live-long  day,  and  to  late  hours  of 
the  night.  The  issue  is  now  to  be  laid,  before  you ;  but,  I 
cannot  do  this,  as  in  my  own  name :  and,  therefore,  beg, 
that,  if  you  attribute  any  merit  to  it,  you  will  award  a  full 
moiety,  to  him.  Your  censure,  when  you  think  it  necessary, 
I  am  willing  to  bear,  singly :  for,  I  can  remember  many  errors, 
mto  which  I  should  have  fallen,  but  for  my  associate's  eru- 
dite and  tasteful  skill ;  and,  many  more,  from  which  he  has 
rescued  me,  when  they  were  actually  committed."  ISTo  one, 
who  has  not  been  conversant  with  proofs,  and  proof  reading, 
can  begin  to  estimate  the  immense  amount  of  labor,  involved 
in  such  a  work.  Nor,  will  any  one,  who  is  competent  to 
make  this  estimation,  who  shall  carefully  examine  "  the 
Standard  Prayer-Book,"  fail  to  accord,  to  Dr.  "Wainwriglit, 
and  his  distinguished  surviving  associate,  the  highest  praise 
for  taste  and  accuracy.  Tlie  whole  Church  will  ever  be  their 
debtors,  for  this  work  and  labor,  which  proceeded  of  love. 
"  Many  and  many  a  free,  earnest,  and,  sometimes,  spicy,  con- 
versation, did  we  have,  together,"  writes  Dr.  Coit,  in  a  letter, 
of  recent  date,  "  in  our  labors,  over  the  Prayer-Book.  But, 
while  he  would  contend,  fo)',  what  might  be  called,  a  literary 
opinion,  to  the  very  uttermost,  the  moment,  I  could  sat- 
isfy him,  that  he  was  contravening  the  express  will,  or  the 
fairly  implied  wish,  of  the  Church,  he  yielded,  like  a  little 
child,  to  the  dictates  of  a  venerated  parent.     I  had  supposed, 


IVEEMOIR.  47 

as  perhaps  others  might,  that,  while  he  woukl  hij  great  stress, 
iipoii  ritual  matters,  he  would  treat  those  of  doctrine,  with 
less  attention.  The  result  most  agreeably  surjirised  me.  He 
guarded  every  comma,  in  the  xxxix  Articles,  as  a  Yestal 
would  have  watched  the  sacred  fire."  Dr.  Wainwright,  in 
addition  to  these  labors,  for  the  Prayer-Book,  published  two 
manuals  of  Family  Devotion.  In  their  devout  and  blessed 
use,  his  name  has  become  a  household  word,  at  many  a  hun- 
dred hearths ;  and  his  pious  memory  will  be  embalmed,  in 
the  social  incense  of  the  family  altar,  through  generation 
after  generation. 

The  year  1852  was  a  marked  era,  in  Dr.  "Wainwright's 
honorable  life.  The  venerable  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts  had  resolved  to  celebrate  their 
third  Jubilee,  (the  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  Anniversary,)  on 
the  fifteenth  day  of  June,  in  that  year.  At  a  general  meet- 
ing of  the  Society,  on  the  20th  day  of  February,  it  was  unan- 
imously resolved,  that,  "his  Grace  the  President  be  requested 
to  address  a  communication  to  the  Bishops,  of  the  United 
States,  inviting  them  to  delegate  two  or  more  of  their  num- 
ber, to  take  part,  in  the  concluding  services  of  the  Society's 
Tliird  Jubilee  Year ;  which  will  end,  on  June  15th,  1852." 
Tlie  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  transmitted  the  Resolutions 
of  the  Society,  enforced  by  his  own  earnest  request,  to  the 
Kev.  Dr.  "VValnwright,  as  Secretary  of  the  House  of  Bishops. 
At  an  informal  meeting  of  the  Bishops,  held  in  IN'ew  York, 
on  the  29th  day  of  April,  the  Right  Reverend  Dr.  McCoskry, 
Bishop  of  Michigan,  and  the  Rt.  Rev.  Dr.  DeLancey,  Bishop 
of  Western  ISTew  York,  were  requested  to  be  present,  and 
participate  in  the  solemn  services,  proposed  to  be  held,  in 
"Westminster  Abbey  ;  and,  when  Resolutions,  of  the  most 
grateflil  love  and  cordial  sympathy,  had  been  adopted,  by 
the  Bishops  present,  Dr.  Wainwright,  as  the  Secretary  of 
the  House  of  Bishops,  was  appointed,  to  convey  them  to  the 


48  MEMOIE. 

Archbishop  of  Canterbmy,  as  President  of  the  Society.  For 
a  time,  it  was  doubtful,  whether  the  Bishops,  designated, 
coukl  execute  the  high  and  holy  trust,  committed  to  them ; 
and  it  was,  then,  deemed  a  becoming  act  of  respect,  to  the 
venerable  Society,  and  its  Most  Reverend  President,  that  the 
Secretary  should,  in  person,  bear  the  resolutions,  which  had 
been  adopted.  ISTever  shall  I  forget  the  day,  on  which  he 
came  to  Riverside,  to  announce,  to  me,  his  mission.  It  was 
one,  that  filled  and  thrilled  his  heart.  He  sincerely  regretted 
the  possibility  of  the  failure  of  the  Bishops,  to  discharge 
their  catholic  errand.  He  expressed,  with  genuine  humility, 
his  own  inadequacy  to  a  trust,  so  high.  And,  yet,  in  all  the 
depths  of  his  simple-hearted,  cordial,  nature,  he  rejoiced,  as 
well  he  might,  in  the  enjoyment  of  an  opportunity,  so  precious. 
He  went.  The  Bishops  sailed,  soon  after ;  and  were  there, 
in  time.  Tliey  bore  themselves,  as  two  such  Bishops  would, 
well  and  worthily  of  the  occasion.  And  none  rejoiced  so 
much  as  they,  that  Dr.  "Wainwright  was  the  sharer  of  theii* 
joy ;  ov  bore  such  testimony  to  the  grace  and  dignity,  with 
which  he  did  his  part,  in  the  great  mission  of  the  daughter, 
to  the  mother,  Church.  On  every  suitable  occasion,  he  made 
the  halls  of  England  vocal,  with  his  fervent  Christian  elo- 
quence :  and,  every  where,  the  honor  which  his  office  claimed, 
and  which  his  person  every  way  conciliated,  was  freely  j^aid, 
to  him.  Upon  him,  as  well  as  upon  the  two  distinguished 
Bishops,  of  our  Church,  the  University  of  Oxford  conferred 
the  honorary  degree,  of  D.C.L. 

It  was  a  happy  providence — happy,  for  both  the  Churches, 
and  for  himself — which  sent  Dr.  Wainwright  to  England,  in 
1852.  He  had  been  twice,  before.  And,  every  where,  he 
had  made  the  most  favorable  impression ;  as  quantities  of 
English  letters  show.  But,  now,  he  had  an  occasion.  And 
he  used  it,  nobly.  I  select,  from  many,  two  or  three  suffi- 
cient testimonies.      "Who   does  not   remember  Archdeacon 


MEMOIR.  49 

Sinclair ;  who,  so  happily,  presented,  to  onr  eyes  and  hearts, 
the  love  of  onr  dear  English  mother,  at  onr  last  General  Con- 
vention. Who,  that  saw  him,  who  that  heard  him,  will  not 
feel,  at  once,  that,  from  snch  sagacity,  from  such  ability,  from 
such  integrity,  Avords  are  realities.  I  select,  from  a  long  and 
loving  letter,  which  shows  the  truest  estimation  of  my  dear, 
dead,  friend,  a  single  passage.  "  You  may  remember,  that, 
before  the  Episcopal  Delegates,  arrived,  from  the  United 
States,  a  public  recej)tion  Avas  given  him,  by  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  and  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  in  Foreign  Parts.  His  address,  to  the  Society,  was 
worthy  of  the  man,  and  of  the  occasion.  It  was  most  able, 
dignified,  and  eloquent ;  and  made  a  deep  impression,  upon 
all,  who  heard  it.  Unhappily,  it  was  not  projjerly  reported ; 
and,  now,  is  lost."  The  other  illustration  of  the  mark,  which 
Dr.  Wainwright  made,  upon  the  strongest  minds,  and  truest 
hearts,  of  his  own  native  land,  is  supplied,  by  one,  who 
stands,  in  the  fore-front  of  England's  sacred  chivalry ;  and 
does  honor,  even,  to  the  honored  name  of  Wilberforce,  the 
able,  the  accomplished,  the  energetic.  Bishop  of  Oxford. 
"My  dear  Bishop,  in  asking  me  to  put  down,  in  writing,  my 
impressions  of  the  late  Bishop  "Wainwright,  you  have  set  me, 
what,  if  only  I  could  make  my  feelings  inspire  my  words, 
would  be,  indeed,  a  labor  of  love.  My  acquaintance  with 
him  dates,  from  his  arrival  in  England,  in  1852,  as  the  pre- 
cursor of  your  Bishoj^s,  who  attended  our  great  festival  of  the 
Society,  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  I,  then,  saw 
much  of  him :  in  London,  in  the  full  stream  of  business,  and 
in  the  excited  atmosphere,  which  hung  over  it ;  at  the  Bishop 
of  London's  palace,  at  Fulham,  in  the  calmer  and  j)leasanter 
eddies  of  that  busy  life  ;  and,  again,  amongst  the  lakes  of 
Westmoreland  ;  and,  once  more,  where  I  had  peculiar  j^lea- 
sure,  in  receiving  him,  for  his  own  sake,  and  as  your  Church's 
honored  representative,  at  Cuddesdon  Palace.  At  all  times, 
4 


50  MEMOIE. 

and  in  all  places,  lie  was,  evermore,  the  same  man.  Ener- 
getic, bnsiness-like,  self-restrained ;  yet,  with  a  gentleness 
of  touch,  and  a  ready  quickness  of  tender  and  honorable 
feeling,  which  played,  like  lambent  light,  around  some 
massive  rock.  When  I  was  alone  with  him,  and  the  great 
interests  of  the  Church  of  Christ  were  under  our  discussion, 
how  would  he  kindle,  with  his  subject !  How  did  he  join, 
in  my  longings,  to  see  our  common  Church  accomplish,  with 
a  new  vigor,  her  great  work  of  evangelization,  through  the 
earth  ;  bearing  her  clear  witness,  against  the  debasing  cor- 
ruptions of  Rome,  on  the  one  hand  ;  and,  on  the  other, 
against  that  sure  preparation  for  infidelity,  the  exalting  of 
the  religious  feelings  of  the  individual,  against  the  Sacraments, 
and  testimony,  and  authority,  of  Christ's  true  Apostolical 
Church.  How  did  he  thirst,  to  bring  home,  with  living  power, 
to  every  sinner's  soul,  the  Cross  and  Name  and  Work  of 
Christ,  the  Lord.  I  had  promised  myself,  please  God,  many 
years  of  brotherly  intercourse,  with  him.  But,  God  has  or- 
dered it,  otherwise.  We,  in  England,  had  just  begun  to  see, 
what  kind  of  Bishop  he  would  make,  when  he  was  taken, 
to  the  rest  of  God's  saints  ;  and  that  presence  of  the  Lord, 
for  which  he  longed.  May  we,  by  God's  grace,  be  kept, 
as  he  was,  faithful  to  the  end  ;  and  follow,  in  God's  good 
time,  thither,  whither  he  has  gone,  before."  Who  would 
forgive  me,  if,  to  these  two,  I  should  not  add  a  third  :  the 
expressive  tribute  of  him,  of  the  eagle  eye,  and  lion-heart, 
the  admirable  Bishop  of  Exeter.  He  writes,  from  Durham  ; 
where  he  was,  then,  in  residence,  as  Prebendary.  "  My 
dear  Dr.  Wainwright,  my  daughter  has  delivered,  to  me, 
your  message.  Be  assured,  that,  if  you  derived  any 
pleasure,  from  your  visit  here,  you  conferred,  by  it,  much 
greater  pleasure,  on  him,  who  received  you.  I  shall  remem- 
ber, as  long  as  I  am  permitted  to  remember  any  thing,  the 
opportunity  which  God  has,  this  year,  given,  to  us,  of  culti- 


]viEMom.  51 

vatiiig  the  feelings  of  mutual  affection,  between  tlie  two  great 
branches  of  the  Reformed  Church  ;  that  of  the  American 
United  States,  and  that  of  the  British  Isles,  and  our  Colonies. 
This  would  have  been  my  fixed  and  rooted  sentiment,  who- 
ever had  been  the  representatives  of  your  Church,  among  us. 
But,  I  will  not  be  prevented,  by  any  fear  of  wounding  your 
delicacy,  from  saying,  that  the  high  qualities  of  the  Bishops 
of  Michigan  and  Western  Kew  York,  and  of  yourself,  have 
made  me,  and  all  the  English  Churchmen,  with  whom  I  have 
communicated,  cherish  that  sentiment,  with  incalculably  in- 
creased force.  I  venture  to  trouble  you,  with  a  letter  to  Dr. 
Berrian,  in  answer  to  one,  which  I  have  recently  received. 
Perhaps,  he  will  converse  with  you,  on  the  principal  matter, 
contained,  in  it.  If  he  does,  pray  let  me  have  the  great 
benefit  of  your  judgment,  upon  it ;  as  he  has  promised  to 
give  me  his.  Can  you  tell  me  how  I  can  best  transmit,  to 
your  two  Bishops,  the  earnest  invitation  of  the  Warden  of  the 
University  of  Durham,  to  them,  to  visit  this  j^lace,  in  the 
last  week  of  this  month  ;  when  there  will  be  an  interesting 
meeting  of  the  Archaeological  Society.  Your  Bishops  will 
have  aj)artments,  in  the  Castle,  the  ancient  residence  of  the 
Palatine  Bishop  of  Durham.  Farewell,  my  dear  Sir ;  and 
believe  me,  with  very  sincere  regard  and  esteem,  your  faith- 
ful friend,  and  Brother  in  Christ." 

From  the  passage  of  the  Canon  of  the  General  Conven- 
tion, of  1850,  "  of  the  election  of  a  Provisional  Bishop,  in  the 
case  of  a  Diocese,  w^here  the  Bishop  is  suspended,  without  a 
precise  limitation  of  time,"  there  were  several  unsuccessful  at- 
tempts, to  elect  a  Provisional  Bishop,  for  the  Diocese  of 
Xew  York.  On  the  first  day  of  October,  of  that  same,  event- 
ful, year,  1852,  a  very  short  time,  after  his  return,  from  that 
most  honorable  mission,  to  our  mother  Church  of  England, 
Dr.  Wainwright  was  chosen,  to  that  office.  How  well,  and 
wisely,  for  the  Diocese,  and  for  the  whole  Church,  his  Epis- 


52  MEMOIE. 

copate,  brief,  as  it  was,  sufficed  to  show.  And,  such  was 
the  instantaneous  impression  in  every  quarter.  I  have  about 
me  piles  of  letters,  addressed,  to  him,  on  the  occasion :  not 
only,  from  the  Diocese  of  New  York,  but  from  the  whole 
American  Church,  and  from  the  Church  of  England ;  and, 
not,  from  Churchmen,  only,  but  from  the  most  distinguished 
ministers,  of  almost  every  denomination.  'No  one,  who  bears 
in  mind  his  fearless  outspeaking,  at  the  ISTew  England  Dinner, 
against  the  very  suggestion,  that  a  Church  cotcld  be  without 
a  Bishop  ;  and  the  clear,  bold,  uncompromising,  defence,  by 
which  he  triumphantly  maintained  his  ground,  in  that  most 
memorable  controversy,  will  ascribe  such  letters  to  doubtful- 
ness in  him,  or  a  misjudging  partiality,  in  them.  No.  They 
knew  their  man  :  and  honored  him,  and  loved  him,  as  he 
was.  And  the  secret  of  it  is,  that  he  was,  himself,  as  Daniel 
was,  "  a  man  of  loves."  And  they,  in  honoring  him,  did 
honor,  to  themselves.  Dr.  Wainwright's  name  had  been 
often  mentioned,  in  connection  with  the  Episcopate,  in 
several  Dioceses.  He  had  been  often  conferred  with,  on 
the  subject.  He  had  always  held  himself  ready,  for  such 
service,  as  God  should  please  to  call  him  to.  But,  when  the 
election  was  a  fact ;  and  the  fearful  responsibility  of  accept- 
ing, or  refusing,  the  most  honorable  trust,  on  earth,  was 
brought  home  to  his  heart,  he  shrunk  from  it ;  and  trembled, 
like  a  little  child.  And,  it  was,  in  that  childlikeness,  which 
was,  through  grace,  his  nature,  that  he  found  the  strength, 
which  God  is,  to  the  weak,  that  trust  in  Him  ;  and  which 
made  his  brief  Episcopate  so  glorious.  And  his  childlike- 
ness continued,  through  it,  all,  A  simpleness  of  heart,  too 
like  a  child's,  for  worldly  wise  men  to  believe,  was  real ;  and, 
therefore,  misjudged,  often,  as  affected  and  artificial.  But, 
no  one  could  be,  much,  alone,  with  him ;  no  one  could  be 
with  him,  in  his  family  ;  no  one  could  see  him,  with  children ; 
no  one  could  be  of  his  company,  on  a  holiday  ;  no  one  could 


MEMOIR.  63 

cnjoj  the  comfort  of  his  familiar  correspondence  :  and  not 
feel,  and  own,  him,  as,  of  the  childlike,  which  Jcsiis  loved  ; 
and  set  np,  as  our  pattern  ;  and  declared,  make  np  His  King- 
dom. Blessed  ones,  in  their  meekness,  and  gentleness,  and 
lovingness,  they  have  His  Kingdom,  even,  here  ! 

The  tenth  day  of  ISTovember,  1852,  the  day  on  which  Dr. 
Wainwright  was  consecrated,  was  a  glorious  festival.  "  Re- 
garded," the  Church  Journal  says,  "  as  the  happy  termination 
of  Diocesan  contests,  which  had  lasted,  with  great  acrimony, 
for  years,  this  occasion  was  honored,  by  the  presence  of  ten 
Bishops  :  and,  for  the  first  time,  since  the  establishment  of 
the  American  Episcopate,  an  English  Bishop  united,  in  con- 
secrating an  American  Prelate.  This  happy  commencement 
of  reunion  and  peace,  celebrated,  as  it  was,  with  uncommon 
splendor,  and  the  united  devotion  of  thousands,  was  fondly 
looked  upon,  as  the  inauguration  of  a  long  Episcoj^ate."  As 
no  ceremonial  could  have  been  more  magnificent,  celebrated, 
as  it  was,  in  a  company  of  worshippers,  which  filled  every 
standing  spot,  in  glorious  Trinity,  and,  with  all  that  music 
could  impart,  of  sweetness  and  solemnity,  there  were  personal 
relations,  involved,  in  it,  of  the  most  gratifying  character. 
The  Consecrator  w^as  the  Yenerable  Presiding  Bishop,  him- 
self, whom  he  had  succeeded,  as  an  Assistant  Minister  of 
Trinity  Church  :  and  who  had  been  to  him,  through  all  the 
years,  that  followed,  as  a  father,  to  a  son.  Of  the  Bishops, 
associated,  with  Bishop  Brownell,  in  the  consecration,  one 
had  been  for  the  third  part  of  a  century  his  most  immediate 
friend  ;  and  all  the  rest,  but  one,  knit  with  him,  in  the  closest 
bonds  of  intimate  affection.  That  one,  a  Bishop  of  the 
Church  of  England,  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  Fulford,  of  Mon- 
treal ;  glad  to  return,  so  soon,  the  tokens  of  that  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  love,  of  which  Dr.  "Wainwright  had  been,  so  recent- 
ly, the  bearer,  to  his  o^\ai  most  reverend  Metropolitan.  It 
mav  be  doubted,  if  "  the  laying  on  of  hands"  was  ever,  more 


54  SIEMOIE. 

emphatically,  tlie  pouring  out  of  hearts.  How  beautiful,  he 
was,  as  he  knelt,  in  his  meekness,  to  receive  the  trust  of  an 
Apostle  !  With  what  a  manly  fulness,  fervor,  and  solemnity, 
he  made  his  solemn  promise  of  conformity  !  How  his  heart 
heaved,  and  swelled,  with  its  concluding  words  :  "  So  help 
me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ !  "  And,  what  an  "  Amen  " 
went  u]5,  from  that  subdued  and  melted  multitude  ;  that  God 
might  grant  it  all !  I  have  alluded  to  the  joy,  which  was 
felt,  in  England,  on  his  election  and  consecration.  A  few, 
of  many,  expressions  of  it,  are  due,  not,  to  him,  so  much,  as 
to  the  Catholic  love,  to  which  it  testifies.  A  matter  of  im- 
portance, to  the  two  branches  of  Christ's  Church,  not  only, 
but,  to  the  two  nations.  When  I  ventured  to  say,  in  Eng- 
land, in  1841,  when  an  American  Bishop  first  officiated  at  the 
altars  of  that  Church,  in  addressing  the  Venerable  Primate, 
Archbishop  Howley,  that  the  bond,  which  knit  the  Churches, 
was  the  bond,  to  hold  the  nations,  "  in  unity,  peace,  and  con- 
cord," he  gave  the  full  assent  of  his  meek  wisdom  ;  and 
added,  with  an  earnestness,  that  kindled  his  serene  and  saint- 
like features,  '"''  Esto  jperjpetua  !  "  The  most  immediate  house- 
hold friends  of  Bishop  Wainwright,  in  England,  were  the 
family  of  Dean  Pearson,  spoken  of,  before.  At  his  first  visit, 
in  1836,  a  son  of  theirs,  now  a  most  useful  and  exemplary 
clergyman,  travelled  with  him,  on  the  Continent.  It  was  a 
critical  period  of  his  life  ;  and  he  considered  Dr.  Wain- 
wright's  companionship,  as  influential,  for  good,  on  its  whole 
future  course.  The  correspondence  is  that  of  the  most  loving 
friends.  On  the  first  intelligence  of  the  election.  Dean 
Pearson  writes :  "  I  need  not  tell  you,  with  what  heartfelt 
pleasure,  we  read  the  fulfilment  of  our  anticipation  of  your 
approaching  elevation  to  the  Episcoj^al  dignity."  "  The  tes- 
timony, so  largely  and  cordially  borne,  to  your  superior 
merits,  must  be  gratifying,  in  the  highest  degree,  not  only  to 
yourself,  and  your  attached  wife,  family,  and  transatlantic 


MEMOIK.  55 

friends  ;  but,  to  your  mimerous  admirers  and  friends,  in  the 
old  country  :  who  recognize  you,  as  a  genuine  descendant  of 
the  English  race,  both  in  Church  and  State  ;  and  rejoice  to 
see  talents  and  qualifications,  which  would  have  raised  you 
to  distinction,  in  the  Mother  Church  and  country,  rewarded 
and  elevated,  in  America.  The  proceedings  of  your  Conven- 
tion, and  the  spirit,  which  pervades  them,  are  eminently  wise 
and  Christian  :  and  your  own  brief  address,  appropriate  and 
characteristic  of  yourself,  and  of  your  qualification,  for  the 
'good,'  and  exalted,  office  of  a  Bishop;  as  well  as  full  of 
hope  and  confidence,  with  regard  to  your  discharge  of  its 
responsible  and  solemn  duties.  Your  friends  have  only  to 
add  their  prayers,  to  your  own,  that  the  great  and  Divine 
Master,  who  has  so  evidently  called  you,  to  the  highest 
station  in  His  service,  may  continue  to  bestow  upon  }' ou  His 
manifold  gifts  and  graces ;  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  under- 
standing, the  spirit  of  power  and  of  love  and  of  a  sound 
mind  :  the  spirit,  so  largely  bestowed  upon  His  AjDostles ; 
especially,  upon  those,  of  whom  we  know  most,  by  their  in- 
spired writings  :  the  venerable  and  holy  Peter,  the  divine  and 
beloved  John,  and  the  richly  endowed,  energetic,  and  labo- 
rious, Paul." — "  How  much  should  we  have  enjoyed  the  day 
of  your  consecration ;  and  our  dear  Hugh,  in  taking  part,  in 
the  sacred  and  interesting  service."  "  I  hope  some  of  the 
Colonial  Bishops  were  able  to  be  present ;  and,  that  every 
thing  holy,  united,  and  edifying,  combined,  to  render  it  a 
memorable  and  gratifying  day.  I  had  no  idea  of  the  extent 
of  your  Diocese,  and  of  the  number  of  your  Clergy.  May 
great  grace  be  upon  you  all ! " — "  I  have  kept  my  letter  open, 
till  the  return  of  dear  Hugh,  from  the  great  ceremonial  of 
yesterday,  the  funeral  obsequies  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 
ITothing  could  exceed  the  grandeur,  and  the  deep  and  solemn 
interest,  of  the  whole  scene.  The  choir  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  voices,  in  surplices.     Tlie  first  burst  of  Dr.  Croft's  'I 


56  MEMOIE. 

am  tlie  ResuiTection  and  the  Life,'  without  the  organ,  was 
most  magnificent  and  imj^ressive.  Goss'  anthem ;  the  chorus, 
'  His  body  is  buried,  in  peace  ;  but  his  name  liveth  ; '  and 
the  Mornington  chant,  to  the  funeral  Psahn.  Besides  the 
wonderful  assemblage  of  distinguished  persons,  present." — 
"  You,  also,  have  lost  a'  great  man,  in  Mr.  Webster ;  and, 
with  him,  I  suppose,  your  great  conservative  leader.  May 
the  good  providence  of  God  unite  us,  Mother  country  and 
Transatlantic  children,  more  and  more  closely,  every  year  ! 
Our  mutual  welfare,  and  that  of  the  whole  world,  are  mani- 
festly interested,  in  the  union.  I  must  now  say,  farewell :  as 
I  have  to  write,  by  this  day's  mail,  to  my  dear,  and,  nearly, 
oldest,  friend,  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta  ;  who  still  enjoys  health, 
and  continues  his  Episcopal  labors,  after  twenty  years'  resi- 
dence, in  India.  May  you  be  preserved,  in  equal  health,  and 
vigor,  and  usefulness,  to  the  same  period  of  your  Episcopate, 
in  America  !  "  Alas,  it  was  but  two  and  twenty  months  ! 
At  a  little  later  date,  the  excellent  Dr.  Hook  addressed  him, 
as  his  way  is,  a  most  emphatic  and  whole-hearted  letter.  "  I 
heartily  thank  you,  for  your  kindness,  in  writing,  to  me.  I 
had  received  the  'Nevr  York  papers,  which  contained  an  ac- 
count, first,  of  your  election,  and,  then,  of  your  consecration. 
I  am  preparing  to  publish  these  accounts,  in  the  shape  of  a 
tract,  for  distribution,  among  my  people.  I  think  the  Chris- 
tian spirit,  evinced,  in  the  proceedings,  relating  to  the  elec- 
tion, w^ill  go  far  to  reconcile  our  people,  to  Synodical  action. 
The  result  was  sublime  :  and  I  read  the  account  of  it,  with 
tears  in  ]ny  eyes.  The  conduct  of  the  defeated  party,  in 
making  the  election  unanimous,  and  the  speeches  made,  were 
such  as  to  call  forth  thanksgiving  to  the  great  Head  of  the 
Church,  who  vouchsafed  such  wonderful  grace,  to  the  Con- 
vention ;  and  blessed  the  Church,  with  so  good  a  Bishop. 
The  consecration  must  have  been  grand  and  impressive.  But 
there  have  been  other  grand  and  impressive  consecrations. 


MEMOIR.  57 

The  temper  of  the  Convention,  and  the  proceedings  of  tlie 
election,  were  uniqne.  I  am  ghxd,  the  Bishop  of  Montreal 
was  enabled  to  be  present ;  and  I  wish,  that  others  conld 
have  attended.  The  Bishop  of  Montreal  and  I  were  school- 
fellows, together,  three  and  forty  years  ago,  at  Tiverton ;  where 
Bisho])  Bull  was  educated." — "  I  lieartily  congratulate  the 
Church,  on  the  happy  event,  of  our  being  able  to  regard  you, 
as  one  of  our  fathers.  And  I  humbly  pray,  that  the  blessing 
of  God  may  rest  upon  your  labors  ;  while  I  commend  myself, 
to  your  benediction."  About  the  same  time,  the  Venerable 
Archdeacon  of  London,  Dr.  Hale,  writes  to  him,  from  the 
Charter  House,  of  which  he  is  Master.  "  I  rejoice,  for  the 
sake  of  our  Church,  that  you  have  been  raised  to  the  Epis- 
copate. If  I  oifer  you,  what  is  commonly  called,  congratu- 
lations, it  is  not  because  there  is  that,  in  the  Episcopal  office, 
which  may  gratify  ambition ;  much  less,  afford  ease  and 
repose  :  but,  because,  he,  who  is  called  to  that  office,  is  one 
highly  honored,  by  '  the  Shepherd  and  Bisho]3  of  our  souls  ; ' 
and  is  intrusted  with  the  greatest  number  of  talents,  to  be 
employed,  for  his  Master's,  use.  It  is  difficult  for  ns,  who 
enjoy  the  blessing  of  an  Established  Churcli,  to  realize  all 
the  difficulties,  with  which,  the  voluntary  system  has  to  con- 
tend. Possibly,  if  your  cares  are  greater,  the  rewards  of 
your  labor  are,  proportionably,  sweeter.  I  look  back,  with 
great  pleasure,  upon  the  few  brief  hours  of  conference,  which 
I  had  with  you,  here.  AVhat  greater  pleasure,  can  there  be, 
than  in  learning,  and  comparing,  the  condition  of  two 
branches  of  Christ's  Church  ;  having  a  twin-like  resemblance, 
to  each  other,  in  external  features ;  united  by  one  faith  and 
discipline  :  and,  yet,  so  nnlikc  each  other,  in  their  temporal 
and  civil  relations."  I  must  add  one  tribute,  from  a  layman 
w^ho  is  foremost,  in  every  good  word  and  work,  Alexander  J. 
Beresford  Hope  ;  in  Parliament,  heretofore,  from  Maidstone. 
"  Short  as  has  been  the  acquaintance,  which,  thanks  to  the 


58  MEMOIE. 

excellent  Bishop  of  Lichlield,  I  liad  the  privilege  of  making, 
with  you,  I  cannot  resist  troubling  you,  with  one  line,  to  say, 
with  wliat  deejj  gratification  I  read  that  most  interesting  ac- 
count of  your  consecration,  in  the  Morning  Chronicle  ;  and  to 
offer  yon  my  warmest  and  most  respectful  congratnlations, 
npon  it.  The  gathering  of  Bishops,  and,  specially,  the  inter- 
communion, with  our  succession,  through  the  Bishop  of  Mon- 
treal, must  gladden  every  heart.  From  the  short  conversation, 
which  I  had,  with  you,  at  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gosjiel,  I  learned,  with  gratification,  that  you  were 
anxious,  for  the  establishment  of  the  Cathedral  system,  in 
America.  If  the  services  of  English  Churchmen,  in  advanc- 
ing that,  or  any  other,  scheme,  for  the  good  of  the  Churcii, 
in  America,  should  seem,  to  you,  desirable  ;  and,  that  I  could, 
in  any  way,  be  useful,  in  assisting  it,  I  trust  you  will  make 
use  of  my  services  :  poor,  as  I  know,  they  are."  What  can 
be  heartier,  or  happier,  in  conception,  or  expression,  or  con- 
clude, more  fitly,  these  heart-pourings,  from  the  Sister 
Church,  than  tlie  following,  from  the  zealous  and  devoted 
Bishop  of  ISTewfoundland  ?  "  Among  numbers,  who  will 
congratulate  you,  and  themselves,  on  your  election,  to  the 
high  and  honorable  office  of  Bishoj)  of  the  chief  city  of  the 
mightiest  Republic,  the  world  ever  saw,  there  may  be  many, 
more  immediately  interested  ;  but  few,  if  any,  more  sincerely 
rejoiced,  and  rejoicing,  with,  and,  for  you,  (though,  with 
trembling,)  than  one,  whom  you  may  have  forgotten  :  but, 
whom  the  remembrance  of  jour  kindness  makes  bold,  to  ad- 
dress you  ;  and  to  beg  you  to  accept  the  assurance  of  his 
best  wishes  and  prayers,  in  your  behalf — that  you  may  faith- 
fully serve  God,  in  your  high  office,  to  the  glory  of  His  Name 
and  the  edifvino;  and  well-o-overnino^  of  His  Church  ;  and,  so 
may  be  found  perfect  and  irreprehensible,  at  the  latter  day, 
through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord.  It  would  have  been  a  great 
gratification  to  me,  and  I  should  have  esteemed  it  a  high 


IVIEMOIE.  39 

privilege,  to  have  attended,  with  my  brother,  Montreal,  at 
your  consecration.  I  am  truly  thankful,  that  the  English 
branch  of  the  Church  Catholic  was  represented,  and  permit- 
ted to  assist,  on  that  interesting  and  important  occasion. 
Your  late  visit  to  England,  with  your  excellent  brethren  (and, 
I  am  privileged  to  add,  my  kind  friends,)  Bishops  McCoskry 
and  De  Lancey,  will,  I  am  persuaded,  with  God's  blessing, 
tend  greatly  to  chain  together  more  closely,  and  to  join  to- 
gether more  firndy  and  fondly,  the  Sister  Churches.  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  forming,  an  acquaintance,  and,  I  trust,  some- 
thing, moi-e,  with  Bishops  McCoskry  and  De  Lancey,  at 
Buffalo,  last  tall ;  and  I  esteem  it  one  of  the  happiest  inci- 
dents of  a  very  happy  holiday."  N'o  one  better  deserves  a 
holiday,  than  the  self-denying  and  hard-working  Bishop  of 
Newfoundland  :  and,  that  no  one  can  enjoy  one  more,  or 
make  others  happier,  in  its  enjoyment,  I  can  vouch,  from 
the  fragrant  memories  of  one,  which  he  passed,  many  years 
ago,  at  Riverside. 

Bishop  Wainwright  participated  in  but  one  General  Con- 
vention ;  that,  in  N^ew  York,  in  1853.  It  was  the  same,  which 
was  honored  and  blessed,  by  the  presence  of  the  English  Del- 
egation, from  the  venerable  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  in  Foreign  Parts,  to  our  Board  of  Missions :  the  Rt. 
Bev.  Dr.  Spencer,  late  Bishop  of  Madras ;  the  venerable 
Ai"chdeacon  of  Middlesex,  Dr.  Sinclair ;  the  Reverend  Ernest 
Hawkins,  Secretary  of  the  venerable  Society,  and,  for  many 
years,  its  most  efficient  working  man ;  and  the  Rev.  Henry 
Caswall,  Yicar  of  Fighildean,  an  American,  in  orders,  and  in 
one  half  of  his  kind  heart.  "Who  did  not  regard  it,  then,  as 
providential,  that  Dr.  Wainwright  was  the  Provisional  Bishop 
of  IsTew  York  ?  Who,  else,  could,  so  well,  have  discharged 
the  relation,  thus  created,  between  the  sister  Churches  ? 
How  dignified  he  was,  in  his  courtesy  !  How  beautiful,  in 
his  hospitality  !     And  which  of  his  brethren  ever  can  forget 


60  MEMOIR. 

his  constant  and  assiduous  attention,  in  sujiplying  tliem  with 
every  comfort  and  convenience  ?  Yery  few  men,  that  I  have 
known,  knew  how  to  do  every  thing,  so  welL  JSTone,  that  I 
ever  knew,  who  did  his  "spiriting,"  so  gently. 

Immediatel}",  after  liis  election,  Bishop  Wainwright  en- 
tered fully,  upon  the  duties  of  his  office.  He  knew,  how  long 
the  Diocese  had  been  without  the  services  of  its  Diocesan.  He 
knew,  how  critical  the  moment  was,  which  introduced  a  Bishop, 
under  the  new  Canon.  He  knew,  no  doubt,  that  some  inight 
apprehend,  that  he  was  not  a  working  man.  l^o  doubt,  he 
solemnly  remembered,  that  "  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man 
can  work."  "  Anxious  to  serve  faithfully  that  Diocese, 
which,  by  so  large  a  vote  had  called  him,  to  preside  over  it, 
Bishop  Wainwright  refused,"  says  the  Church  Journal,  "  to 
moderate  his  Episcopal  labors,  by  any  consideration,  for  his 
own  health.  This  enormous  Diocese  is  too  heavy  a  burden, 
for  even  the  most  vigorous  man,  in  the  flower  of  his  age  ;  and 
the  determination  to  do,  what  no  man  of  his  years  could  rea- 
sonably expect  to  perform,  has  hurried  the  devoted  Bishop 
to  his  grave.  In  spite  of  the  repeated  and  jjressing  remon- 
strances of  his  friends  ;  in  spite  of  several  premonitory  warn- 
ings, that  he  was  altogether  overtasking  his  strength,  the  in- 
defatigable Prelate  was  no  sooner  restored,  from  one  attack 
of  sickness,  than  he  pushed  forward,  into  a  fresh  round  of  la- 
bor." It  might  be  well  inscribed,  upon  his  monument,  "  the 
zeal  of  Thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up."  He  projected,  at 
once,  a  complete  visitation  of  the  whole  Diocese,  with  its 
three  hundred  Clergymen,  before  the  next  Convention;  a 
period  of  eleven  months.  And  he  accomplished  it.  It  was 
my  grea.t  pleasure  to  be  with  him,  when  on  a  visit,  to  my 
beloved  friends,  at  Troy,  at  his  first  Visitation.  It  was,  in 
the  evening.  He  preached,  and  administered  confirmation. 
And,  then,  he  addressed  the  confirmed  persons.  I  did 
what  I  could,  to  prevail  on  him,  not  to  make  the  address. 


MEMOIE.  61 

It  seemed,  to  me,  always,  a  superfluity.  In  his  case, 
with  such  an  immense  Diocese,  it  would  be  a  great  bur- 
den. But,  he  did  it.  And  he  did  not  do  it,  very  well. 
"  You  have  spoiled  my  address,  for  me,  this  time,''  he  said : 
"  for  I  was  foolish  enough,  to  be  embarrassed,  by  your  pres- 
ence. But,  I  wdll  not  give  it  up."  He  did  not.  And  the 
result  was,  two  sermons,  at  every  confirmation.  His  wdiole 
heart  was  in  his  work.  He  had  always  been  a  laborious  man. 
He  felt  himself  more  than  ever  bound  to  labor,  now  ;  that  he 
was  to  be  an  example,  to  the  pastors,  as  well  as,  to  the  flock. 
He  did  not  consider  his  advanced  age.  He  did  not  consider 
the  difference,  in  the  kind  of  work.  He  did  not  consider  the 
entire  change,  in  his  manner  of  life  ;  uncertain  hours,  irregu- 
lar meals,  unconscious  occupation,  a  constant  drain,  upon  his 
spirits,  and  his  strength.  Above  all,  he  did  not  consider,  what 
even  St.  Paul  considered,  the  hardest,  and  the  heaviest  of 
his  burdens,  "  the  care  of  all  the  Churches."  High  and  holy, 
as  his  motive  was,  it  must  be  owned,  that  he  was  imprudent, 
in  his  zeal.  An  instance,  or  two,  out  of  many,  will  serve,  as 
an  illustration.  The  first  is  supplied  by  one  of  his  most  de- 
voted presbyters,  the  Rector  of  the  parish  of  his  first  Yisita- 
tion,  now  the  efiicient  Domestic  Secretary  of  the  Board  of 
Missions.  "  I  remember,  at  one  of  the  Bishop's  visits  to  Troy, 
he  came,  after  an  accident,  at  Copake,  which  caused  a  pain- 
ful lameness.  He  not  only  laid  the  corner  stone  of  St.  John's 
Church,  on  Saturday,  when  severely  suffering ;  but,  insisted 
on  preaching  and  confirming,  the  next  morning,  in  St.  Paul's. 
He  w^as  so  lame,  that  he  preached,  sitting  in  his  chair ;  and,  nev- 
er, with  more  earnestness,  or  effect.  In  the  confirmation,  the 
candidates  came  to  him,  one  by  one,  as  he  stood,  at  the  centre 
of  the  chancel  rail :  and  the  scene  was  very  touching ;  as,  on 
bended  knees,  they  severally  received  the  laying  on  of  hands, 
with  his  earnest  blessing.  After  the  service,  though  evidently 
suffering  much,  he  refused  to  have  a  physician  called  ;  and  in- 


62  MEMOIR. 

tended  to  persevere,  witli  the  other  duties  of  the  day.  I  sent, 
however,  for  mv  family  physician :  who  no  sooner  saw  him, 
than  he  discovered  the  signs  of  erysipelatous  inflammation ; 
and  positively  enjoined  rest  and  remedies."  "His  forgetful- 
ness  of  himself,  and  his  earnest  devotion  to  his  duties,  were  thus 
signally  illustrated  ;  as  in  all  the  self-consuming  labors,  which, 
so  soon,  terminated  his  earnest  and  useful  Episcopate."  An- 
other, and  a  striking  testimony,  to  the  same  effect,  is  fur- 
nished by  one,  who  knew  him  well,  the  E.ev.  Dr.  Coit,  now, 
Eector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  Troy.  "  With  Bishop  Wain- 
wright,  a  deep  conviction  of  duty  was  always  overmastering. 
Satisfy  him,  that  any  thing  was  his  duty ;  and  he  feared  no 
consequences,  in  its  performance.  This  was  not  the  impres- 
sion of  many,  I  know.  For,  he  was  so  reluctant  to  displease 
or  pain  any  human  being,  as,  often  to  be  thought,  vacillating 
or  timid.  Perhaps,  I,  myself,  had  the  same  opinion ;  with 
others,  who  have  not  known  him,  intimately.  But,  as  I  came 
into  closer  contact  with  him,  and  watched  his  conduct,  under 
trying  circumstances,  I  became  satisfied,  that  duty  was,  with 
him,  an  all-prevailing  word.  Those,  who  knew  him,  only,  at 
a  distance,  presumed,  that  he  would  have  an  easy  Episcopate. 
I  knew,  he  would  have  a  hard,  because,  an  uns]>aring,  one : 
and,  was  not  at  all  surjjrised,  when  he  became  a  martyr,  to 
his  self-devotion.  The  last  recollection,  which  I  have,  of  him, 
fully  sustains  the  impression,  which  I  had  slowly,  but  surely, 
formed.  I  saw  him,  at  Christ  Church,  Troy,  on  the  evening 
of  Sunday,  June  11,  1854,  for  the  last  time.  He  had  held  an 
ordination,  in  my  own  Church,  in  the  morning  ;  and  went  to 
Christ  Church,  in  the  evening,  for  a  confirmation.  The  next 
day,  he  went  to  Glen's  Falls  ;  and,  on  Tuesday  morning,  was 
to  meet  several  of  us,  at  the  station,  in  Troy,  to  go  down  the 
river,  to  attend  the  quarterly  Convocation.  At  the  station. 
Bishop  Otey  told  us  of  his  sudden  illness  ;  and,  that  he  was 
going  straight  home.     One  of  the  Clergy  insisted,  that  some 


MEMOIE.  63 

of  lis  should  accomj^any  him.  '  No,'  I  said ;  '  I  know  the 
Bishop  better  than  yon  do.  He  will  be  vastly  better  pleased, 
to  have  us  go  to  the  Convocation ;  and  do  our  duty,  there.' 
I  mentioned  this,  in  a  letter :  and  he  replied,  at  once,  that  1 
had  done  just  what  he  preferred."  "  So,  to  the  last,  my  recol- 
lection of  him  is,  that  he  was  unfailingly  true  to  duty  ;  with- 
out regard  to  himself." 

Bishoj)  Wainwright's  last  public  ministrations  were  at 
Haverstraw.  The  memorandum  of  his  visitation,  there,  made 
by  the  Missionary,  the  Rev.  J.  Breckenridge  Gibson,  will  pos- 
sess a  sacred  and  peculiar  interest.  "  The  Bishop  reached 
Haverstraw,  on  Saturday  evening,  August  26,  at  T  o'clock. 
I  met  him,  at  the  boat,  with  my  little  boy ;  and  he  rode  home, 
in  my  carriage.  Although  he  looked  fatigued,  he  seemed 
well ;  enjoyed  his  tea :  and,  after  a  short  evening,  spent  in 
talking  over  our  Church  affairs,  he  retired,  quite  early.  One 
incident,  I  cannot  forbear  mentioning ;  as  it  illustrates  his 
kind  interest  in  little  children.  Remembering  that  I  had 
two  little  boys,  though  he  had  seen  them  but  once,  and,  that, 
a  year  before,  he  had  thought  of  them,  on  his  way,  to  the  boat. 
While  we  were  sitting,  at  the  tea-table,  he  left  it,  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  go  to  his  carpet-bag ;  and  brought  them  a  paper  of 
candy.  A  trifling  circumstance  :  but,  the  proof  of  no  ordi- 
nary kindness  of  heart,  in  one,  so  occupied  with  the  highest 
responsibilities.  On  Sunday  morning,  the  Bishoj)  rose,  at 
six ;  and  came  from  his  room,  looking  perfectly  well :  and,  he 
said,  feeling  so.  After  breakfast,  he  rode,  with  me,  about  a 
mile  and  a  half,  to  the  humble  room,  in  Avhich  our  services 
were  held.  He,  there,  addressed  the  children  of  the  Sunday 
School,  in  a  most  earnest  and  affectionate  manner.  He,  then, 
returned,  to  my  house  ;  and  remained  there,  till  the  hour  of 
morning  service.  We  met,  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church. 
He  read  the  ante-communion  service ;  and  preached,  from 
Romans  x.  10:  'With  the  heart,  man  believetli  unto  rio-lit- 


64  MEMOIR. 

eousness.'  Tlie  power  of  the  sermon,  and  the  eloquence 
Avith  which  it  was  delivered,  were  manifested,  by  the  manner, 
in  which  it  was  listened  to,  and  the  effect  which  it  produced. 
The  place  of  worship  was  large ;  and  filled  with  a  congrega- 
tion, representing  almost  all  shades  of  religious  opinion.  The 
breathless  attention  and  deep  interest,  shown,  sometimes,  in 
tears,  were  highly  gratifying.  After  the  sermon,  the  Bishop 
explained  the  holy  rite  of  Confirmation.  He  esjjecially  en- 
deavored to  do  aAvay  the  erroneous  impressions,  of  those, 
without  the  Church,  as  to  the  use  of  the  word,  '  regeneration.' 
He  confirmed  thirteen  persons ;  and  addressed  them,  most 
solemnly  and  affectionately.  There  had  been  a  great  change, 
in  the  weather,  during  the  service  ;  the  wind  having  become 
damp  and  cold,  and  the  sky  overclouded.  As  we  were  riding 
home,  the  Bishop  regretted,  that  he  had  only  a  thin  coat. 
He  felt  rather  chilled.  After  dinner,  of  which  he  partook, 
with  an  excellent  appetite,  he  retired  to  his  room,  and  rested, 
till  half  past  four.  The  afternoon  service  was  in  the  Central 
Presbyterian  Church.  This,  also,  was  crowded,  with  an  at- 
tentive and  interested  congregation.  He  preached  a  most 
excellent  sermon,  with  great  animation  and  fervor,  from  1  St. 
John  ii.  3  :  '  Hereby,  we  do  know,  that  we  know  Him,  if  we 
keep  His  commandments.'  A  deep  impression  was,  evi- 
dently, made,  on  the  minds  of  the  listening  congregation. 
After  the  sermon,  he  gave  out  the  40tli  Hymn ;  and,  then 
pronounced  the  greater  Benediction.  Our  little  flock  look 
back,  to  their  great  privilege,  in,  thus,  receiving,  as  it  were, 
his  dying  blessing ;  with  thankful,  though  with  saddened, 
hearts.  The  Bishoj),  then,  thanked  the  Pastor  and  Trustees 
of  the  congregation,  for  the  use  of  their  Church ;  alluded  to 
the  spirit  of  Christian  courtesy,  thus  manifested :  and  said, 
in  words,  which  will  be  ever  in  our  ears,  that  it  was  im2)ossi- 
ble  they  could  all  meet  again,  on  earth ;  but  he  hoped  that  all 
might,  before  the  Throne  of  God,  to  receive  the  sentence. 


MEMOIR.  65 

'"Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  tliou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord.'  On  our  way  home,  the  Bishop  again  spoke 
of  the  chilliness  of  the  atmosphere ;  although  lie  was  rather 
more  warmly  clad,  than  in  the  morning.  lie  retired  early ; 
not  seeming  much  fatigued.  Indeed,  he  said,  that  his  labors, 
that  day,  had  been  comparatively  light.  He  rose,  on  Mon- 
day, at  five.  Breakfast  was  prepared ;  and  there  was  ample 
time.  But,  he  declined  it :  saying,  that  he  was  used  to  eat- 
ing, at  any  hour ;  and  it  would  not  hurt  him,  to  wait  for  his 
breakfast,  till  he  reached  New  York.  He  added,  that  he  had 
recently  gone,  from  Catskill,  to  New  York,  without  any  nour- 
ishment. I  drove  him,  to  the  boat.  And,  as  he  stood,  on 
the  bow,  he  seemed,  in  spite  of  the  previous  day's  work,  like 
one  in  full  and  vigorous  health ;  and  fresh,  as  though  he  had 
passed  a  day  of  rest,  instead  of  one  of  toil." 

But,  it  was  not  so.  The  chilliness,  which  he  had  felt,  on 
Sunday,  was  "  the  beginning  of  the  end."  And,  it  came, 
very  soon.  The  Church  Journal  has  briefly  narrated  its  fear- 
ful progress.  "  Tlie  next  day,  his  fever  began.  On  Wednes- 
day evening,  he  was  brought  down  to  the  Depository,  to  at- 
tend a  long  and  important  meeting  of  the  Church  Book  Soci- 
ety. The  following  (Thursday)  evening,  an  adjourned  meet- 
ing of  the  same  was  held,  at  his  residence :  he  presiding,  un- 
til the  end  of  a  long  debate ;  though  scarcely  able  to  sit  up, 
at  all.  This  was  his  last  act  of  Episcopal  business.  His  last 
letter  was,  from  dictation,  to  the  Bishop  of  New  Hampshire ; 
requesting  him  to  act  for  him,  in  consecrating  the  new 
Church  at  Champlain,  which  had  been  appointed,  for  Sep- 
tember 14tli.  As  yet,  however,  no  serious  alarm  was  felt, 
until,  at  length,  his  family,  becoming  alarmed,  at  the  increas- 
ing danger  of  his  symptoms,  sent  for  Drs.  Hosack  and  Wilkes : 
who  remained,  in  constant  attendance,  on  him,  throughout ; 
and  did  all  that  science  could  do,  to  preserve  a  life  so  valua- 
ble. But,  all  was  in  vain.  The  stupor,  which  is  the  charac- 
5 


66  MEMOTB. 

teristic  of  the  typhoid  tjj^e  of  fever,  settled  upon  him,  more 
and  more  deeply,  from  day  to  day.  Nourishment,  he, 
almost  wholly,  refused.  Until,  at  length,  in  a  state  of  un- 
consciousness, he  quietly  passed  away,  to  a  better  world." 
"  He  died,  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Matthew,  the  Apostle,  Thurs- 
day, September  21,  1854;  in  the  sixty-third  year  of  his 
age." 

After  all,  it  was  a  beautiful  and  glorious  death.  In  the 
two  and  twenty  months  of  his  Episcopate,  he  had  averaged 
more  than  one  sermon,  a  day.  He  had  consecrated  15 
Chm'ches.  He  had  ordained  37  Deacons,  and  12  Priests. 
He  had  confirmed  4127  persons.  And,  all  this,  as  nothing, 
to  that,  which  came  upon  him,  daily,  "the  care  of  all  the 
Churches."  His  work  seemed  but  just  begun.  And,  yet, 
he  had  settled,  and  harmonized,  a  Diocese,  which  had  been 
long  distracted :  and  had  given  to  the  whole  Church,  till 
every  eye  and  heart  was  filled,  "  assurance  of  a  "  Bishop.  It 
was  a  beautiful  and  glorious  death,  to  die.  His  last  public 
acts  at  a  Missionary  Station,  one  of  the  old  landmarks  of  the 
venerable  Society,  in  England ;  but  never  before  visited  by 
a  Bishop.  His  last  texts,  so  well  fitted  to  be  the  last : 
"  With  the  heart,  man  believeth  unto  righteousness ; "  and, 
"  Hereby,  we  do  know,  that  we  know  Him,  if  we  keep  His 
commandments."  His  last  words,  so  impressive :  a  solemn 
charge,  as  it  were,  to  all  his  hearers,  to  be,  with  him,  at  the 
throne  of  God.  And  his  last  hymn !  What  could  have  been 
more  touching  ?     So  swan-like  ;  and  so  sweet ! 

"Lord,  dismiss  us,  with  Thy  hlessing; 

Fill  our  hearts,  with  joy  and  peace  ; 
Let  us,  each,  Thy  love,  possessing, 

Triumph,  in  redeeming  grace  : 
0,  refresh  us, 

Travelling,  through  this  wilderness. 


MEMOIE.  67 

Thanks,  we  give,  and  adoration. 

For  the  Gospel's  joyful  sound ; 
May  the  fruits  of  Thy  salvation, 

In  our  hearts  and  lives,  abound : 
May  Thy  presence. 

With  us,  evermore,  be  found ! " 

As  his  last  act  of  personal  kindness,  the  overflowing,  al- 
ways, of  his  gentle  and  most  loving  heart,  was  that  sweet 
thonghtfulness,  as  to  the  Missionary's  little  boys,  so,  the  last 
labor  of  his  love  was  for  the  children  of  the  Church,  in  those 
two  sessions  of  the  Church  Book  Society,  which  exhausted, 
what  the  fever  had  left,  in  him,  of  life.  And,  though  one 
yearns,  for  the  last  words,  wdiicli  that  dark  typhoid  pall  shut 
in,  his  death  was,  like  liimself,  serene  in  silence.  For  the  last 
five  hours,  he  lay,  surrounded  by  his  darlings ;  his  wife  and 
his  eight  children,  with  their  faithful  friend  and  physician, 
Dr.  Hosack,  while  the  life-stream  ebbed  away.  The  scene 
was  quiet.  All  was  composed  :  except,  when,  now  and  then, 
a  gush  of  sorrow  would  break  forth.  "  My  beloved,  you  are 
going  to  be  with  Jesus  ;  to  be  for  ever  happy.  Do  you  rest 
in  Him  ? "  The  closing  eyes  half  opened.  The  venerable 
head  moved  its  assent.  Tlie  mother  and  the  children  im- 
pressed their  farewell  kiss,  upon  that  noble  brow.  And,  all 
was  still.     The  spirit  was  with  God. 

How,  the  funeral  scene,  that  followed,  contrasted,  with  the 
consecration  scene,  not  tAvo  years  passed.  The  same  magnifi- 
cent Church.  The  same  dense  throng,  crowding  its  walls. 
The  same  beloved  one,  the  magnet  of  all  hearts.  But,  now, 
funereal  sorrow,  funereal  gloom,  funereal  stillness ;  until  bro- 
ken, by  the  pathetic  accents  of  the  venerable  Rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  as  with  solemn  step  and  slow,  he  preceded,  what  was 
mortal,  of  his  friend  and  Bishop,  with  those  sublime  and  com- 
fortable words,  "I  am  the  Eesurrection  and  the  Life."  The 
lesson  was  read  by  the  Bishop  of  Illinois ;  who  had  been  his 


68  MEMOIE. 

youthful  parisliioner,  in  Grace  Church.  The  remainder  of 
the  service  was  bj  the  Bishop  of  New  Jersey.  All,  tliat 
music  could  lend,  of  tenderness  and  solemnity,  to  such  a 
scene,  was  lovingly  contributed,  by  Dr.  Hodges,  and  those 
whom  he  directed :  and,  worthily,  to  one,  who  has  done  more, 
•  than  any  other  man,  to  make  Church  music,  what  it  should 
be.  None,  that  heard  it,  will  evei-  lose  the  sense  of  deep, 
and,  yet,  triumphant,  sorrow,  in  that  voice  from  heaven, 
"  Write,  From  henceforth,  blessed  are  the  dead,  who  die  in 
the  Lord :  even  so,  saith  the  Spirit ;  for  they  rest  from  their 
labors." 

Here,  let  me  drop  the  impersonal,  so  hard  to  keep,  when 
heart  has  knit  itself  with  heart,  and  close  my  sketch,  in  out- 
line, with  the  few  words,  to  which,  on  the  day  after  the  fune- 
ral, I  gave  utterance,  in  my  own  pulpit,  in  the  midst  of  my 
parishioners.  They  were  heart-words.  And  hearts  were 
melted  by  them ;  till  they  flowed,  like  water. 

"  Beloved,  in  the  one  and  twenty  years,  that  we  have 
lived,  and  loved,  together,  how  few  of  you,  there  are,  with 
whom,  I  have  not  wept !  Is  there  a  house,  of  yours,  to  which 
I  have  not  come,  in  sorrow,  or  in  sickness,  or  in  death  ;  to 
lay  my  heart,  by  yours,  and  soothe  its  throb bings,  with  the 
sympathy  of  mine.  To-day,  I  bring  my  sorrow,  to  your 
door.  To-day,  I  come  to  you,  for  sympathy.  My  heart,  for 
the  last  week,  has  been  beside  the  dying,  and  the  dead.  And, 
I  now  come,  to  you,  from  the  very  grave,  which  opens,  nearest 
to  my  own.  When  Jesus  came,  where  Lazarus  was  laid,  he 
could  not  speak.  He  could  but  weep.  Yes,  '  Jesus  wept.' 
And  you  will  let  me  say  as  little,  as  I  may,  to  you,  this  morn- 
ing ;  and  rather  listen  to  my  dear,  dead,  friend,  than,  to  him, 
whom  he  has  left,  to  loneliness  and  lamentation.  My  brethren, 
life  is  short,  to  lose  a  friend,  of  five  and  thirty  years.  To 
him,  who  is  to  live  the  longest,  there  is  not  time  enough,  for 
such  another.     And,  such  an  one,  I  buried,  yesterday.     I 


MEMOIE.  69 

was,  yet,  a  candidate  for  boly  orders,  and,  but  twenty  years 
of  age,  when,  in  1819,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wainwright  came  to 
JSTew  York,  as  one  of  the  Ministers  of  Trinity  Church,  wliere 
I  was  a  parishioner.  lie  was  but  seven  years  older.  And 
peculiar  sympathy,  intastes  and  studies,  soon  made  that 
diifereuce,  as  nothing.  And  though,  officially,  my  pastor, 
we  from  the  lirst,  were  personal  friends.  We  read,  together ; 
we  studied,  together ;  Ave  thought,  and  felt,  and,  almost, 
lived,  together.  And,  from  the  time,  that  I  left  jN^ew  York, 
in  1821:,  until  he  had  none,  upon  earth,  his  house  was  as  wel- 
come to  me,  as  my  own ;  and  always  was,  as  home,  to  me. 
When  my  first-born  son  was  to  be  new-born,  in  Holy  Bap- 
tism, he  took  the  vows,  and  ever  tenderly  regarded  the 
relation,  of  a  sponsor.  He  succeeded  me,  in  the  only  Rector- 
ship, I  ever  held,  till  I  was  your  Rector ;  that  of  Trinity 
Church,  Boston  :  and  was  thus  knit  in,  more  closely,  with 
my  heart,  through  the  fond  love  of  mutual  friends.  At  the 
eventful  period  of  my  consecration,  I  was  his  guest ;  and 
leaned  upon  his  friendship,  and  was  encouraged  by  his  love. 
In  all  the  troubles  and  sorrows,  that  have  befallen  me,  his  was 
the  sympathizing  heart,  and  his  the  Avord  of  consolation.  He 
Avas  in  England,  when  more  than  my  life  was  perilled  :  and, 
in  the  noblest  presence,  that  the  Venerable  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel  ever  had  assembled,  he  stood  up  ; 
and  with  a  voice,  which  rang,  the  kingdom,  through,  and  had 
an  echo,  here,  asserted  his  own  perfect  assurance  of  his  friend's 
integrity.  ISTot  quite  two  years  ago,  I  laid  my  Avhole  heart, 
with  my  hand,  upon  his  venerable  head ;  Avhen  he  was  conse- 
crated, to  the  office  of  a  Bishop.  Tliere  Avas  nothing,  that  he 
did  not  do,  except  neglect  his  duty,  to  be  Avith  me,  at  the 
consecration  of  this  Church,  on  Avhich,  his  heart  Avas  fully 
set ;  and,  which,  our  necessary  postponement  of  it,  alone, 
prevented.  The  last  time,  that  I  ever  saw  him,  was  when  he 
came,  to  be  Avitli  me,  at  the  consecration  of  another  Church, 


70  MEMOIE. 

in  the  uortliern  portion  of  tlie  Diocese  :  when  we  parted,  with 
purposes,  and  plans,  and  promises,  of  a  re-union,  here  ;  which 
never  was  to  be.  And  the  last  line,  to  me,  that  his  true 
hand  ever  traced,  was  the  assurance,  that,  though  he  must  be 
in  a  distant  quarter  of  his  Diocese,  his  spirit  would  be  with 
us,  when  God  fulfilled  our  prayer  ;  and  took  this  temple,  for 
His  own.  You  will  deeply  feel,  my  well-beloved,  with  what 
anxiety  of  heart,  I  took  my  pilgrimage,  to  his  sick  chamber, 
when  I  first  learned,  that  his  sickness  threatened  death  :  and 
only  reached  it,  though  I  went,  at  once,  when  so  little  of  him 
was  left,  that  even  his  two  devoted  physicians  failed  to  arouse 
his  consciousness.  You  will  feel  deeply,  how  my  heart  was 
pierced,  when,  in  the  midst  of  academic  duties,  on  Friday 
last,  the  tidings  of  his  death  came,  suddenly,  upon  me  :  and, 
as  I  hastened  out,  into  the  bright  and  balmy  day — as  bright 
and  balmy,  as  if  death  had  never  been — I  felt  myself 
alone,  on  earth.  And  you  will  deeply  feel,  with  what 
yearnings  of  the  soul,  I  stood,  among  the  darlings  of  his 
heart,  by  the  bright  hearth,  which  God  had  darkened,  by  his 
death ;  with  what  grief,  too  deep  for  tears,  I  said,  over  his 
dear  remains,  the  words,  which  consecrated  them  for  the 
Resurrection,  'earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust;' 
and,  how,  when  I  passed  the  coffin,  as  it  left  the  Church,  and 
laid  my  hand  upon  its  head,  in  token  of  the  fond  embrace, 
which,  as,  I  trust,  awaits  me,  where  he  is,  the  man  was 
melted  ;  and,  like  Joseph,  I  went  out  and  wept,  alone.  Too 
literal,  in  me,  the  words  of  mourning  David,  when  the  brother 
of  his  heart  was  taken,  from  him  :  '  I  am  distressed,  for  thee, 
my  brother  Jonathan ;  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been,  imto 
me ;  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of 
women.  How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  and  the  weapons  of 
war  perished ! ' — ^But,  of  myself,  and  of  my  grief,  enough. 
Let  me  ask  your  prayers,  beloved,  for  as  bright  and  happy  a 
home,  as  ever  lighted  its  hearth-fires  ;  now,  dark  and  deso- 


MEMOIR.  Tl 

late  :  a  widowed  mother,  weeping,  with  her  fatherless.  Let 
me  ask  your  prayers,  for  a  Diocese,  bereaved  of  its  Bishop  : 
who  had  knit  all  hearts  into  his  own  ;  and  God's  blessing,  on 
whose  labors,  gave  as  fair  a  promise,  as  the  Church  has  ever 
seen.  Let  nie  ask  your  prayers,  for  the  whole  Church  ; 
which  mourns,  in  him,  one  of  her  wisest  counsellors,  and  one 
of  the  most  valiant  leaders  of  her  host :  '  decus  atque  columen '  / 
her  pillar  and  her  pride.  And,  for  the  lesson  of  his  death, 
accept  but  this  :  the  beauty  akd  the  glory  of  self-sacrifice. 
From  the  happiest  home  ;  from  the  widest  circle  of  devoted 
and  admiring  friends  ;  from  the  serene  and  quiet  duties  of 
the  pastoral  life,  in  which  his  heart  delighted,  among  a  peo- 
ple, who  had  called  him,  to  them,  five  and  thirty  years, 
before,  he  went,  at  the  call  of  duty,  to  the  cares  and  toils  and 
trials  of  the  Episcopate  :  in  the  lai'gest  and  most  laborious 
of  our  Dioceses  ;  and,  at  a  time,  when  a  most  painful  provi- 
dence had  made  its  trials  infinitely  trying,  and  its  labors,  im- 
measurably laborious.  But,  he  went,  at  the  call  of  God,  and 
in  His  strength.  And,  in  less  than  two  years,  he  restored 
the  waste  places  of  Zion  ;  and  set  his  vineyard  in  most  j^er- 
fect  order :  and,  the  very  next  week,  expected  to  rejoice, 
with  his  assembled  Clergy  and  Laity,  in  the  account  which 
he  was  to  render,  to  them,  with  such  joy,  as  theirs,  who 
bring  the  vintage,  home.  But,  he  had  overtasked  his  strength. 
At  sixty,  one,  with  peril,  enters  on  an  untried  course  of  life. 
He  entered  upon  his,  with  the  ardor  of  one,  half  his  age. 
He  forsook  his  happy  home.  He  divorced  himself,  from  his 
beseeching  friends.  He  gave  his  days,  to  labor,  and  his 
nights,  to  care.  Again  and  again,  he  was  prostrated,  in  his 
work.  Again  and  again,  his  friends  admonished  him  of  his 
danger.  Again  and  again,  I  implored  him  to  work  less,  that 
he  might  work  longer ;  and,  so,  more.  It  was  all  in  vain. 
Tlie  vows  of  God  were  on  him.  The  zeal  of  His  house  had 
eaten  him  up.     Again  and  again,  when  he  had  hardly  rallied, 


72  MEMOIE. 

from  entire  prostration,  lie  returned  prematurely,  to  the 
rescue.  And,  in  the  midst  of  the  herculean  labors,  which 
he  had  wrought,  and  which  he  had  planned,  he  entered,  on 
Thursday  last,  into  the  only  rest,  of  which  his  zealous  heart 
would  hear  ;  and  sweetly  sleeps,  in  Jesus.  A  gallant  and  a 
glorious  death,  was  his.  His  feet,  on  the  field.  His  face,  to 
the  foe.  His  armor  on.  His  spear,  in  rest.  The  crown  of 
life  falling,  mid-fight  upon  his  brow.  '  His  body  is  buried, 
in  peace  ;  but  his  name  liveth,  for  evermore.'  " 

JSTo  other  deaths,  but  those  of  Bishop  Hobart,  and  Bishoj) 
"White,  have  agitated  the  Church,  so  deej)ly.  l^one  other 
has  called  forth  such  testimonials  of  honor,  gratitude,  and 
love.  The  address  of  his  associate  and  dear  friend.  Dr.  Hig- 
bee,  at  the  funeral  was  as  true,  as  it  was  touching,  in  its  elo- 
quence ;  and  swayed  the  hearts,  of  all  that  vast  congregation, 
as  the  heart  of  one  man.  "  I  seek  not  to  j)ortray  him,  to 
you,  in  his  labors,  in  the  Diocese  ;  bringing;  to  these  labors, 
his  whole  life  and  soul,  yet,  in  meekness  and  humility.  The 
record  of  his  toil,  during  the  two  years  of  his  Episcopate,  is 
known  to  you,  all :  and  the  fruits  of  his  labor  will  remain, 
in  the  hearts  of  thousands  of  the  young,  the  old,  the  rich,  the 
poor,  clergymen  and  laymen,  of  this  city  and  this  Diocese. 
And,  tliere^  is  the  result,  to  him.  He  did  labor,  unto  the 
death.  But,  no  ;  thank  God  :  that  is  not  the  result,  to  him. 
'  They,  who  are  wise,  shall  shine,  as  the  brightness  of  the 
firmament ;  and  they,  who  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as 
the  stars,  for  ever  and  ever.'  One  of  the  morning  papers  of 
this  city,  yesterday,  in  announcing  his  death,  used  the  follow- 
ing touching  words.  '  Since  the  period  of  his  election,  he 
has  known  but  little  rest.  We  have  often  seen  him,  wrapt  in 
an  ample  cloak,  waiting,  in  severe  storms,  the  arrival  of  con- 
veyances to  take  him  to  and  from  the  city.  The  clergy  re- 
spected him.  The  laity  supported  him.  His  friends  loved 
and  honored  him  ! ' — '  "Waiting  ; '  '  waiting,  in  severe  storms  ! ' 


MEMOIR.  73 

Aje  ;  in  every  part  of  tlie  Diocese,  has  he  been  seen  ;  wait- 
ing, in  tlie  summer's  heat,  and  in  the  winter's  cokl.  No  ;  not 
waiting.  But,  every  where,  on  the  great  liighways,  and  aside 
from  the  thorouglifares  of  travel,  in  lonely  vales,  and  among 
bleak  hills,  braving  the  inclement  seasons,  and  wet  with  the 
dews  of  the  night,  he  has  been  constantly  seen  :  pursuing  his 
way,  by  any  convenience,  wdiich  might  be  presented  to  him, 
from  one  distant  point  to  another,  to  visit  the  populous  town, 
or  the  humble  country  church,  or  the  obscure  school-house ; 
hastening  to  bestow  his  blessing,  wdiether  on  the  great  con- 
gregation, or  on  the  poor,  gathered  together,  in  God's  name. 
No  consideration  of  j)ersonal  convenience  or  comfort ;  no 
mere  weakness  and  languor  and  pain  ;  no  private  interest  or 
social  invitation  ;  no  anxious  remonstrance  from  his  friends, 
and  they  were  many,  were  allowed  to  interfere  with  his 
duties,  from  the  least  to  the  greatest.  My  last  words,  to  him, 
were  a  remonstrance,  in  case  of  a  recovery,  against  this  ex- 
cessive labor.  His  reply  told  me,  that  he  w\as  unconscious 
of  any  excess  ;  and,  then,  his  mind  ran  off  on  past  and  pro- 
•spective  duties.  Alas,  our  master  is  taken,  from  our  head, 
to-day.  The  field  misses  the  strong  laborer.  The  shield  of 
the  warrior  is  pierced,  in  the  battle.  Alas,  my  bretliren ! 
Alas  ;  but,  not,  for  him  !  His  toil,  his  pain,  his  conflicts,  are 
all  over.  The  rough  toils,  the  weary  way,  the  heat  and  cold, 
are  past.  The  tempest  no  more  breaks  over  his  head  ;  and 
the  rude  wind  is  still.  The  good  soldier  is  fallen  ;  '  with  his 
face  to  the  foe,'  and  his  armor  on.  The  faithful  laborer  has 
gone  upward  ;  not  deserting  the  harvests,  but  bearing  his 
sheaves,  with  him."  This  is  real  eloquence.  And,  as  true, 
as  it  is  touching.  "When  I  say,  that,  to  such  a  pen,  I  leave 
the  portraiture  of  Bishop  Wainwright,  as  a  preacher,  I  say 
what  will  be  more  than  satisfactor3^  The  Rev.  Dr.  Higbee 
selects  and  arranges  the  sermons,  for  this  Memoeial  Volume — 
the  title  is  the  beautiful  suggestion  of  our  most  venerable 


74  MEMOIE. 

and  beloved  Presiding  Bishop — and  will  premise  an  intro- 
duction. 

From  every  quarter  of  tlie  Church,  and  from  the  Cliurch 
of  Enghind,  letters,  the  most  aifecting  and  aifectionate,  came 
in,  at  once.  Commemorative  sermons  were  preached,  in 
every  pulpit,  of  the  Diocese  ;  and,  in  not  a  few,  beyond  it. 
Resolutions  of  sympathy  and  admiration,  to  fill  a  volume — 
from  almost  every  parish,  as  well  from  the  numerous  asso- 
ciations, with  which  the  Bishop  was  connected — were  sent  to 
Mrs.  Wainwright.  Of  the  letters,  and  of  the  resolutions,  I 
select  but  two.  Tlie  Venerable  Archdeacon  Sinclair  writes, 
as  follows  :  "  Among  the  friends  of  the  late  Bishop  Wain- 
wright,  there  are  not  many  on  your  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
there  are  none  on  mine,  who  feel  more  deeply,  than  I  do  the 
grievous  loss,  which  his  family  and  the  Church  have  sus- 
tained, by  his  death.  I  read  the  sad  intelligence,  unexpect- 
edly, this  morning,  in  the  newspapers  ;  and  my  immediate 
object,  in  writing  to  you,  is  to  say,  that,  when  a  plan  is 
brought  forward,  by  the  members  of  the  Church,  in  New 
York,  for  evincing,  by  some  public  testimonial,  the  high  esti- 
mation in  which  they  held  him,  I  should  consider  it  a  favor, 
if  you  would  add  my  name,  to  the  list  of  contributors.  You 
may  put  it  down  for  any  sum,  which  may  be  given,  by  those, 
among  the  clergy,  who  are  best  able,  in  this  way,  to  express, 
their  feelings  of  respect  and  affection,  in  which,  I  know  that 
all  j)articipate.  Long  and  extensive,  as  my  experience  has 
been,  I  scarcely  ever  knew  so  wise  and  good  a  man  as  Bishop 
Wainwright ;  none,  so  well  adapted,  to  the  arduous  office,  to 
which  Providence  had  called  him.  May  God  direct  the 
Church,  in  the  choice  of  his  successor  !  For  my  own  part, 
I  so  highly  valued  his  friendship,  that  one  of  the  motives, 
which  miglit  have  induced  me  to  revisit  the  United  States, 
would  have  been,  to  enjoy,  once  more,  the  privilege  of 
seeins:  him." 


MEMOIE.  75 

Six  days,  after  tlie  decease  of  Bishop  Wainwright,  the 
Convention  of  the  Diocese  assembled,  for  its  stated  annual 
session.  With  what  deep  disappointment,  and  heartfelt  sor- 
row !  They  had  anticipated  a  joyful  meeting,  with  their  be- 
loved and  honored  Bishop.  They  came,  to  weep  together, 
over  his  grave.  What  follows  is  from  the  Journal  of  their 
proceedings  : 

"  The  Convention  was  called  to  order  by  the  Secretary ; 
and  the  Senior  Presbyter,  present,  the  Rev.  William  Berrian, 
D.  D.,  took  the  chair  ;  pursuant  to  the  fifth  Rule  of  Order. 

The  following  Preamble  and  Kesolutions  were  submit- 
ted, by  the  Pev.  the  Secretary ;  and  were  unanimously 
adopted. 

Whereas^  This  Convention  has  assembled,  this  day,  under 
circumstances  of  peculiar  solemnity,  by  reason  of  the  recent 
decease  of  its  late  honored  Pt.  Pev.  Father  in  God,  the  Pro- 
visional Bishop  of  the  Diocese  : 

Therefore,  Resolved^  unanimously,  at  this,  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  passing  an  order,  that  a  Committee  of  nine  be  ap- 
pointed, to  consider  and  report  what  proceedings  it  is  proper 
for  this  Convention  to  take,  to  testify  their  sense  of  the  loss, 
which  the  Diocese  has  sustained,  in  this  sore  bereavement ; 
and  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  their  late  beloved  Father. 

jResol'Ved,  That  the  aforesaid  Committee  consist  of  the 
following  Clergymen  and  Laymen  :  the  Pev.  Drs.  Higbee, 
Tyng,  Brown,  Lewis,  and  W.  L.  Johnson  and  the  Hon.  Luther 
Bradish,  the  Pev.  Martin  Lee,  Washington  Lwing  Esq.,  and 
Professor  Pobert  W.  Weir. 

Resolved,  That  the  Committee  have  leave  to  retire  from 
the  sittings  of  the  Convention. 

Subsequently,  on  motion  of  the  Pev.  Dr.  Higbee,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  McYickar  was  added  to  the  Committee,  and  made 
the  Chairman. 

Septemher  'iStk.  On  motion  of  the  Secretary,  the  reading 
of  the  Report  of  the  Standing  Committee  of  the  Diocese  was 


76  MEMOIE. 

postponed,  to  give  opportunity  to  hear  the  Report  of  the 
Committee,  appointed  yesterday,  to  consider  and  report  what 
proceedings  it  is  proper  for  this  Convention  to  take,  to 
testify  their  sense  of  the  loss,  which  the  Diocese  has  sus- 
tained, in  their  sore  bereavement,  and  to  do  honor  to  the 
memory  of  their  hite  beloved  Father. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  McYickar,  Chairman  of  that  Committee,  in 
their  behalf,  presented,  and  read,  the  following  Report : 

The  Committee  appointed  to  consider  and  report  what 
proceedings  it  is  proper  for  the  Convention  to  take,  to  testify'- 
their  sense  of  the  loss,  which  the  Diocese  has  sustained,  in 
the  death  of  their  late  Provisional  Bishop,  and  to  do  honor 
to  his  memory,  herewith  report  the  following  Preamble  and 
Resolutions  : 

Whereas,  It  hath  pleased  Almighty  God,  in  His  wise 
providence,  to  visit  the  Church  of  this  Diocese  with  sudden 
and  sore  bereavement,  by  withdrawing  from  the  scene  of  his 
earthly  labors,  and  from  the  Episcopal  charge,  so  recently 
committed  to  him,  our  late  Right  Reverend  Father  in  God, 
Jonathan  Mayliew  Wainwright,  D.  D.,  D.  C.  L.,  Provisional 
Bishop  of  this  Diocese  ; 

Therefore,  Resolved,  That,  as  becomes  Christian  men,  and 
members  of  Christ's  holy  Church,  we  do  bow,  in  humble 
submission,  under  this  chastisement  of  our  Heavenly  Father's 
hand ;  and,  both,  as  a  people,  and,  in  our  individual  ap- 
proaches to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  do  beseech  Him  to  sanctify, 
unto  us,  and  to  the  Church  of  his  love,  and  to  tlie  late  Bishop's 
bereaved  family,  this  most  unexpected  and  afflictive  disj^en- 
sation. 

Resolved,  That,  in  view  of  the  many,  long,  affectionate 
and  faithful  services,  rendered  to  the  Church  of  Christ,  in 
this  Diocese,  during  more  than  twenty  years  of  his  ministerial 
life,  as  Pastor  and  Bishop,  by  our  late  deceased  Iriend  and 
brother,  and  of  the  manifold  gifts,  both  of  nature  and  grace, 
which  rendered  these  services  so  widely  acceptable,  and  him- 
self so  admired  and  beloved,  we  would  here  record  our  thank- 


MEMOIE.  '11 

fulness,  for  the  same,  to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  ;  and 
pray,  that  He  woukl  send  forth  many  such  Laborers,  into  His 
harvest,  sanctiiied,  and  fitted,  for  their  work. 

Besolved,  That  the  untiring,  self-sacrificing  labors  of  our 
late  Provisional  Bishop,  during  the  period  of  his,  alas !  too 
short.  Episcopate,  demand,  from  the  Diocese,  at  large,  a  pecu- 
liar expression  of  their  gratitude,  reverence  and  love  ;  and  it 
is,  hereby,  earnestly  commended,  to  the  wealthier  members 
of  our  communion,  that  some  worthy  memorial  of  the  same, 
whether  in  the  form  of  an  educational  endowment,  bearing 
his  name,  or  of  external  monument,  erected,  (if  agreeable 
to  the  Yestry  of  Trinity  Church,)  in  its  new  and  spacious 
Chapel,  to  which,  it  is  well  known.  Bishop  Wainwright  looked 
forward,  as  his  spiritual  home,  should  perpetuate  the  memory 
of  his  devoted  and  unremitting  toil,  in  the  service  of  his 
Master,  and  in  the  care  of  His  fiock. 

Resolved,  That  the  Church,  at  large,  in  the  Diocese,  owes 
to  the  memory  of  its  late  Provisional  Bishop  a  special  debt  of 
gratitude,  in  the  mission  of  love  and  peace,  which,  during 
his  two  years'  Episcopate,  so  pointedly,  both,  marked  his 
course,  and  blessed  his  labors.  He  poured  oil  upon  the 
troubled  waters.  Every  Avhere,  he  souglit  peace,  and  en- 
sued it.  And,  on  his  dying  couch,  his  latest  labor  was,  re- 
conciliation. For  this,  the  Church  owes,  to  his  memory,  a 
debt  of  gratitude,  best  paid,  by  each  member  of  it,  in  his 
own  appropriate  sphere,  going  forth  in  the  spirit  of  love,  and 
doing  likewise. 

Resolved,  That,  amid  our  demonstrations  of  public  sorrow, 
at  the  loss  we  have  sustained,  we  forget  not  the  private  griefs 
of  his  bereaved  family  ;  but  would,  hereby,  express  to  them 
our  deep  and  heartfelt  s^nnpathy,  for  their  bereavement ;  our 
aflectionate  and  reverential  memory  of  him,  whom  they 
mourn ;  and  our  earnest  prayers,  at  the  Tlirone  of  Grace, 
for  their  consolation  and  support  here,  and  their  blessed 
re-union  hereafter  ;  where  tears  are  wiped  away  from  every 
eye. 

Resolved,  lastly.  That  the  above  Pesolutions  be  adopted 
by  the  Convention,  entered  at  large  on  its  minutes,  and  a 


78  MEMOIR. 

copy  of  the  same  be  respectfully  communicated  to  the  family 
of  the  deceased  Bishoj),  and  also  to  the  Yestry  of  Trinity 
Church. 

(Signed)  JOHN  McVICKAK, 

EDWARD  Y.  HIGBEE, 
WILLIAM  H.  LEWIS, 
MAETIN  LEE, 
ROBERT  W.  WEIR, 
STEPHEN  H.  TYNG, 
L.  BRADISH, 
JOHN  BROWN, 
WILLIAM  L.  JOHNSON. 

The  Preamble  and  Resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted. 
Attested,     Benj.  I.  Haigiit,  D.D.,  Acting  Secretary." 

At  Haverstraw,  where  he  last  officiated,  in  the  Church, 
which  has  since  been  erected,  a  beautiful  Memorial  Window 
has  been  put  up,  by  the  united  offerings  of  Churchmen,  in 
different  parts  of  the  Diocese.  It  consists  of  three  bays,  with 
tracery,  above.  Tlie  central  light  is  tilled  w^ith  a  figure  of 
our  blessed  Lord.  The  side-lights  are  filled  wath  the  figures 
of  angels,  bearing  shields,  inscribed  with  emblems  of  the 
Passion.  Above,  are  figures  of  angels,  bearing  the  text, 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead,  who  die  in  the  Lord  ;  for  they  rest 
from  their  labors."  Beneath  the  figure  of  our  Lord,  is  the 
Pelican,  in  her  piety.  Beneath  the  angel  figures,  are  to  be, 
on  one  side,  the  emblem  of  the  Episcopal  office,  with  the 
w^ords,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant : "  on  the 
other,  the  Crown,  with  the  words,  "  Enter,  thou,  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord."  These  were  his  last  memorable  words,  in 
public.  Along  the  whole  foot  of  the  window,  is  the  follow- 
ing inscription  :  "To  the  glory  of  God,  in  memory  of  Jona- 
than Mayhew  Wainwright,  late  Provisional  Bishop  of  New- 
York  ;  whose  last  public  services  were  offered  here,  on  the 
eleventh  Sunday  after  Trinity,  a.  d.,  mucccliv." 

Another  monument  is,  now,  in  progress,  in  hands,  that 
will  not  let  it  fail :  "  The  Ladies'  Memorial  of  Bishop 
Wainwkight  ;  a  Church,  with  seats,  peqDetually  free."  Lots, 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  have  been  procured,  in  the  midst 


MEMOIR.  79 

of  a  dense  population  ;  many  of  them,  emigrants  from  Eng- 
land. Tlie  subscription,  for  its  erection,  is  in  progress.  The 
good  Lord  graciously  prosper  it !  "What  other  monument 
could  be  so  fit  ?  By  it,  he,  being  dead,  shall  always  speak. 
Speak,  in  that  j^reaching  of  the  Gospel,  to  the  poor,  in  which 
his  soul  delighted.  Speak,  in  those  ministrations,  to  the  sick, 
and  the  afflicted,  for  which  his  foot  w^as  ever  free,  his  hand 
was  ever  full.  Speak,  in  the  care  and  training  of  the  little 
children,  who  loved  to  climb  about  his  knees ;  and  to  whom 
his  dying  labors  were  devoted.  Beautiful  enterprise  of  female 
charity  and  piety  !  Like  those  holy  women,  w^ho  were  at  the 
sepulchre,  before  the  day,  with  fragrant  sj^ices,  to  embalm  the 
body  of  their  Lord. 

To  the  SKETCH,  IN  OUTLINE,  of  my  dear,  dead,  friend,  which 
I  have  thus  drawn,  with  more  of  will,  than  skill,  I  shall  ap- 
pend, to  make  it  precious,  a  mosaic,  of  the  memories  of  love  ; 
contributed,  by  some,  who  almost  always  knew  him ;  and 
who,  from  different  points  of  view,  have  seen  the  same  sur- 
passing beauty,  and  felt  the  same  invincible  attraction. 

Public,  as  his  whole  life  w^as,  and  eminent,  as  he  was,  in 
public  life.  Bishop  "Wainwright  was  happiest  and  most  beau- 
tiful, in  his  home.  He  was  an  apt  illustration  of  that  sweet- 
est thought,  of  Wordsworth,  of  the  sky-lark : 

''  Type  of  the  wise  ;  who  soar,  but,  never,  roam : 

"  True,  to  the  kindred  points,  of  Heaven  and  Home." 

As  a  son,  none  was  ever  kinder,  more  affectionate  or  more 
respectful.  A  more  loving  brother  never  lived.  J^or  a  more 
tender,  indulgent,  confiding  and  devoted,  husband.  His  wife 
w^as  the  almoner  of  his  charities,  his  counsellor,  his  comforter. 
As  a  father,  he  was  most  affectionate  and  gentle  ;  living  with 
his  children,  on  terms  of  gracious  equality ;  and  controlling 
them  with  love,  rather  than  by  authority.  He  counted  no 
sacrifice,  on  his   part,  too  great,  that  could  promote  their 


80  IVIEMOIE. 

comfort  and  advantage.  They  loved  him  tenderly ;  and 
mourn  him  sincerely.  Of  the  fourteen,  that  were  given  to 
him  in  his  happy  married  life,  of  six  and  thirty  years,  six 
waited  for  him,  in  Paradise.  The  latest  of  them,  that  was 
taken  home,  was  a  son,  just  opening  into  manhood ;  and 
bright,  wdth  every  promise.  It  may  be  doubted,  if  the  father 
ever  quite  recovered,  from  the  wound  of  tliis  bereavement : 
though  he  never,  for  a  moment,  murmured.  lie  was  a  per- 
fect gentleman.  His  urbanity  of  manner,  never  was  sur- 
passed. The  law  of  kindness  was  ever  on  his  lips.  No  grace 
or  courtesy  was  ever  wanting,  to  his  daily  life.  In  his  man- 
ners, in  his  habits,  in  his  bearing,  in  the  expression  of  his 
countenance,  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  in  the  propriety  of  his 
dress,  in  his  whole  carriage  and  appearance,  there  was  that 
which  would  have  commended  him  at  court,  and  made  him 
welcome,  in  a  cottage.  As  a  Christian,  he  was  meek,  modest, 
and  retiring.  Yery  seldom,  did  he  ever  open,  to  human  ear, 
the  deep  utterances  of  his  devotion.  His  conversation  was 
always  enlightened,  elegant,  instructive,  and  improving. 
But,  it  was  not  his  way,  to  talk  religion.  He,  rather,  did  it. 
No  one  ever  heard  a  harsh  word,  from  him.  No  one  ever 
heard  a  word,  against  the  absent.  No  one  ever  lieard  a 
breath  of  scandal,  or  of  calumny.  He  never  turned  his  face, 
from  any  poor  man.  His  charity  and  piety  were  uniform 
and  unfailing,  as  they  were  unaffected  and  unostentatious. 
Deep  and  sincere  humility  was  the  foundation  of  his  religious 
character.  And  this  was  more  than  ever  apparent,  after  his 
consecration,  as  Bishop.  The  key-note  of  his  feelings,  in  con- 
nection with  this  most  tremendous  trust,  was  in  those  touch- 
ing words  of  the  Institution  service  :  "  I  am  not  worthy,  that 
Thou  shouldst  come  under  my  roof;  yet  Tliou  hast  honored 
Thy  servant,  with  appointing  him,  to  stand  in  Thy  House, 
and  to  serve  at  Thy  holy  Altar."  To  that  service,  he  did,  in- 
deed, "devote"  himself;   "soul,  body  and  spirit,  with  all 


MEMOIR.  81 

their  jjowcrs  and  faculties."  Pie  felt  himself,  the  humblest 
instrument,  in  the  hand  of  God :  and  humbly  trusted  to  do 
something,  for  His  glory,  in  the  good  of  souls.  These  feel 
ings  increased  in  him,  to  the  very  last.  They  made  him, 
"instant,  in  season,  and  out  of  season."  They  made  him, 
"  steadfast,  unmovable,  always  abounding,  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord."  They  bowed  him  beneath  an  earlier  Cross.  They 
won  for  him  an  earlier  crown. 

A  marked  j)hase  of  Bishop  Wainwright's  character  was 
its  TJNivEESALNESs.  He  was  always  eminent,  as  a  preacher. 
His  sermons  were  always  excellent.  His  was  uniformly  the 
winning  eloquence  of  persuasion.  It  might  be  thought, 
that  some  of  Plato's  swarm  had  lighted,  on  his  lips.  And, 
yet,  how  many  other  things  he  did ;  and  did  them,  well ! 
How  many  lectures,  on  different  subjects  !  How  many  pub- 
lic services  to  art,  to  science,  to  letters,  to  beneficence  !  So, 
in  his  pastoral  duties,  he  was  devoted  and  exemplary.  He 
never  seemed  to  lose  sight,  even,  of  the  youngest  lamb.  A 
letter,  of  his,  written,  while  in  Boston7  to  a  young  lady,  wlio 
had  been  his  catechumen  in  Grace  Church,  JSTew  York,  on 
occasion  of  her  receiving  her  first  communion,  in  which,  the 
wisest  counsels  were  imparted,  with  the  most  touching  ten- 
derness, illustrates  this.  And,  when  he  had  attended  the 
last  moments  of  Mrs.  "Webster,  the  sketch,  which  he  made, 
of  the  aftecting  scene,  was  acknowledged,  by  the  illustrious 
statesman,  in  a  letter,  which  poured  out  the  profoundest 
depths  of  his  great  heart.  His  information  was  most  various 
and  extensive  ;  and,  always,  accurate.  Tliere  were  very  few 
subjects,  which  he  could  not  enlighten.  And,  yet,  how  little 
time  he  seemed  to  have,  to  study,  or  to  read.  The  secret  lay 
— it  is  accessible,  to  all — ^in  early  rising,  constant  occupation, 
and  strict  method.  It  was  only,  in  this  way,  that  he  could 
have  maintained  his  vast  correspondence.  It  was  only,  thus, 
that  he  could  alwaj^s  have  the  time  to  be  courteous  and  hos- 
6 


82  MEMOIE. 

pitable,  to  liis  guests ;  to  do  a  service,  for  a  friend  ;  or  to  exe- 
cute tlie  dictates  of  his  universal  cliarity.  It  is  astonishing, 
how  variously  he  was  employed.  And,  from  what  various 
sources.  If  an  organ  was  desired,  for  a  country  parish — I 
speak,  now,  of  the  whole  period  of  his  ministry — he  was  to 
look  it  up.  If  plans  and  estimates,  for  a  new  Church  were 
in  hand,  he  was  to  be  consulted.  A  colonial  Bishop  writes, 
to  secure  his  interest  in  a  young  lady,  unfortunately  married, 
who  liad  come,  to  try  her  fortune,  in  New  York.  A  young 
man,  in  a  British  Province,  had  left  his  home,  unhappily ; 
and  his  influence  to  find  and  to  reclaim  him,  was  invoked. 
Mrs.  Heber's  Memoir  of  the  Bishop  is  to  be  re-printed,  in  this 
country ;  and  he  takes  the  charge  of  it.  An  English  Arch- 
deacon writes  to  him  about  an  unfortunate  man,  who  has 
come  to  America,  and  left  his  family ;  and  he  hunts  him  up, 
and  makes  such  report  of  him,  that  funds  are  raised,  in  Lon- 
don, to  send  them  out,  to  him.  Miss  Jane  Porter  writes  him 
a  long  and  most  agreeable  letter.  Its  first  point  is,  to  inter- 
est him  in  two  young  mechanics,  who  have  sailed,  for  New 
York.  The  munificent  patron  of  the  expedition,  in  search 
of  Sir  John  Franklin,  at  the  instance  of  the  noble  navigator, 
who  twice  encountered  the  perils  of  tlie  Pole,  on  a  high 
errand  of  humanity,  requests  of  him  a  form  of  prayer,  for 
daily  use,  on  board  the  ships ;  and  he  supplies  it.  And, 
when  the  American  Exhibition  of  the  Arts  and  Sciences,  is  to 
be  opened  in  the  city  of  New  York,  to  all  the  world,  he  is  to 
inaugurate  it,  with  his  prayers  and  benediction.  Tliis  is  a 
scantling,  only,  of  the  illustrations  of  his  universalness.  But, 
it  will  sustain  the  point.  How  such  a  man  was  missed,  from 
among  the  hearths  of  human  kind !  How  many  will  rise  up, 
"  at  that  day  ;  "  and  call  him,  blessed  ! 

One,  who  was  much  with  him,  while  a  student  of  theol- 
ogy in  Boston,  the  Eev,  Dr.  Burrouglis,  whose  skill,  in  the 
discernment  of  character,  is  only  surpassed,  by  his  most 


MEMOIE.  83 

genial  appreciation  of  tlio  beautiful  and  good  in  it,  thus 
writes,  of  him,  as  he  appeared,  at  that  time.  "  We  all  ac- 
knowledged his  talents,  knowledge,  affability,  graciousness, 
colloquial  powers.  His  large  promise  of  eminence  was  strik- 
ingly realized,  in  his  future  life,  which  was  ever  graced  with 
sound  learning,  unimpeachable  integrity,  dignity  of  charac- 
ter, courtesy  of  manner,  diligence  in  duty,  warm  devotion  to 
the  Church.  There  was  in  him  a  singular  combination  of  the 
great  and  good ;  the  bold  and  the  prudent ;  the  firm  and  the 
gentle  ;  the  tone  of  authority  and  the  law  of  kindness.  Few 
ever  equalled  him,  in  the  propriety,  expressiveness  and  solem- 
nity, with  which  he  read  our  Liturgy.  Few  ever  excelled 
him,  in  the  simplicity,  force  and  elegance  of  his  style,  or  in 
the  eloquence,  with  which  he  delivered  his  discourses.  He 
was  an  admirable  model  of  pulpit  oratory.  His  aff'ections 
were  generous  and  sincere:  and  'he  grappled  his  friends,  to 
his  soul,  with  hooks  of  steel.'" 

The  Honorable  Willard  Phillips,  of  Boston,  who  knew 
him  well,  from  1809,  when  he  was  but  seventeen  years  old, 
has  sketched  him,  from  the  life,  as  follows.  "  Bishop  AVain- 
wriglit,  from  his  early  manhood,  was  distinguished  for  mag 
nanimity  and  generosity  of  disposition.  His  frankness  and 
tolerant  good-heartedness,  signilied,  by  his  look  and  tones  of 
voice,  and  plainly  manifested  in  his  cordial,  free,  well-bred, 
manner,  won  regard,  at  first  sight ;  which  was  certain  to 
grow,  into  attachment,  on  acquaintance.  He  was  benevo- 
lent, in  the  fullest  significance  of  the  term :  his  interest,  in 
the  well-being  of  others,  not  being  limited  to  their  social  po- 
sition, sect,  or  race.  He  was  disposed  to  think  no  evil :  and 
always  put  a  charitable  construction  upon  the  conduct  of  oth- 
ers ;  even  where  his  own  pretensions  seemed  to  be  in  compe- 
tition :  and  his  beneficence  and  kind  offices  seemed  to  flow 
out,  naturally,  from  an  abundant  fountain  of  goodness.  His 
aspirations  for  eminence  never  excited  in  him  animosity,  bit- 


84  MEMOIR. 

terness,  envy,  or  hardness,  towards  others.  His  philanthropy 
did  not  prompt  him,  as  it  sometimes  does  well-meaning  per- 
sons, to  officious  and  ov^er  earnest  solicitations  of  others,  to 
co-operate  with  him,  in,  what  he  thought  good  works.  He 
had  a  quick  j^erception  of  propriety,  and  sense  of  what  was 
suitable  and  seemly,  in  the  very  great  variety  of  situations 
and  relations,  in  which  he  was  placed ;  as  well,  out  of  his 
professional  career,  as  within  it :  and,  what  was  akin  to  this 
faculty,  he  had  a  lively  feeling  of  the  beautiful  and  admira- 
ble, in  men  and  things.  He  was,  accordingly,  an  appreciat- 
ing admirer  of  excellence,  in  the  fine  arts ;  and  felt  himself 
to  be  at  ease,  and  in  sympathy,  and  harmony,  with  excelling 
artists  :  and  the  more  so,  as  much  in  his  own  public  perform- 
ances was,  in  some  material  respects,  subject  to,  what  Cicero 
denominates,  the  eomfnune  vinculum,  with  them.  I  well  re- 
member, that,  on  his  introducing  me  to  Gilbert  Stuart,  the 
celebrated  portrait  painter,  at  the  rooms  of  the  latter,  about 
1809,  he  was  intimately  familiar  with  that  artist.  Some 
twenty  years  after,  during  my  visit  to  him,  in  Xew  York,  I 
found  him  retaining  the  same  tastes,  and  cultivating  similar 
associations,  when  he  took  me  to  Col.  Trumbull's  rooms,  to 
show  me  the  original  portrait  of  Washington,  by  that  artist ; 
with  whom  he  was  evidently  on  a  familiar  footing.  He  had, 
also,  an  ardent,  appreciating,  fondness  for  music,  of  which  he 
had  considerable  scientific  knowledge  ;  and,  in  which,  he 
was  not  without  some  artistic  skill,  on  the  Piano,  and  the 
Welsh  Harj)  :  on  each  of  which,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  prac- 
tising. He,  probably,  had  some  agreeable  juvenile  reminis- 
cences of  the  Harp.  He  turned  these  accomplishments  to 
practical  account,  in  bringing  together  excellent  vocal  per- 
formers, in  the  choirs,  and  procuring  skilful  organists,  in  the 
different  Churches,  with  which  he  was  successively  associ- 
ated. Tliese,  he  never  failed  to  inspire  with  his  own  alacrity 
and  enthusiasm.     He,  also,  made  his  well-known  and  highly 


MEMOIK.  85 

estimated  selection  of  music,  adapted  to  the  service  of  the 
Episcopal  Church.  His  attention  was  early  given  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  art  of  elocution ;  of  which  he  w^as  appointed 
College  Instructor,  soon  after  taking  his  degree :  and  which, 
as  is  well  known,  he  ever  after  continued  to  cultivate,  with 
unremitting  assiduity,  and  with  eminent  success.  Nor,  was 
his  attention  given  to  delivery,  merely.  For,  he  never  ceased, 
to  study,  with  vigilant  and  discriminating  diligence,  the  force, 
the  proprieties,  and  the  beauties,  of  the  English  language.  It 
was  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of  Bishop  "Wainwright, 
from  his  youth,  and  one  of  the  causes  of  his  general  popular- 
ity, that  he  was  more  tolerant  and  indulgent,  to  the  medioc- 
rity of  others,  with  whom  he  came  into  communication,  in 
the  accomplishments  and  attainments,  in  which  he,  himself, 
excelled,  than  persons,  eminent,  in  any  way,  are  wont  to  he. 
He  was,  esj^ecially,  always,  ready  to  cheer  on,  and  bring,  into 
notice,  merit,  of  whatever  kind ;  without,  at  the  same  time, 
the  least  air  of  condescension,  or  patronage ;  seeming  to  be 
influenced  by  the  satisfaction,  he  took,  in  rendering,  to  worth, 
its  due." 

The  distinguished  historian,  Mr.  Prescott,  thus  testifies 
of  his  great  and  varied  excellence.  "  I  am  ver}-  glad  to  hear, 
from  you,  that  you  propose  to  publish  a  volume  of  your  ex- 
cellent husband's  discourses  ;  accompanied  by  a  biographical 
sketch  of  him.  Both  will  have  a  good  influence,  on  the  com- 
munity. For  his  life  was  the  illustration  of  his  doctrines." 
"  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  know  him,  from  a  very  early  pe- 
riod. For,  we  were  at  Cambridge,  together.  Tliough,  as  he 
was,  two  years,  my  senior,  I  saw  but  little  of  him,  at  the 
University.  But,  at  this  early  period,  the  peculiar  features 
of  his  character  were  already  formed :  and  he  gained  the 
hearts  of  all,  who  approached  him,  by  the  kindliness  of  his 
manner ;  and,  by  that  genial,  expansive,  nature,  which  ap- 
peals, to  the  sensibilities  of  the  young,  more  powerfully,  even, 


86  MEMOIR. 

than  in  later  life.     During  the  interval,  which  occurred  be- 
tween your  husband's  leaving  Boston,  and  his  return,  to  it, 
to  fill  the  situation  of  Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  I  saw  but 
little  of  him.     But,  on  his  return,  I  had  the  good  fortune,  as 
you  know,  to  listen  to  his  preaching.     It  is  no  disparagement 
to  the  able  men,  who  have  filled  that  j)ulpit,  to  say,  that  there 
was  not  one  of  them,  who  performed  his  clerical  functions 
with  greater  zeal  or  ability.     He  had  many  of  the  highest 
qualifications  of  a  preacher.     Independently  of  the  classical 
finish,  which  he  gave  to  his  discourses,  and  the  practical  good 
sense,  which  pervaded  them,  they  were  penetrated  with  a 
sj)irit  of  Christian  philanthropy,  which  came,  spontaneously, 
from  the  inmost  depths  of  his  soul.     It  was  by  love,  and  not 
by  fear,  that  he  would  lead  his  hearers,  along  the  path  of 
duty.     It  was  the  principle  of  love,  in  its  largest  sense,  which 
was  most  deeply  seated  in  his  nature.     It  showed  itself,  in 
that  comprehensive  charity,  which  is  the  life  of  the  Gospel. 
While,  his  own  opinions,  in  religious  matters,  were  too  firmly 
settled,  to  be  shaken,  he  had  entire  toleration,  for  a  difierence 
of  opinion,  in  others.     While,  his  own  principles  were  founded 
on  a  rock,  he  had  the  greatest  tenderness,  for  the  frailties  of 
others.     Not  only,  did  he  give  an  example  of  virtue,  in  his 
own  life ;  but,  he  presented  virtue  in  such  a  sweet,  engaging, 
aspect,  that  it  won  the  hearts  of  his  hearers.     With  the  ready 
sympathy  of  his  nature,  he  was  in  the  most  intimate  rela- 
tions, with  those,  whose  habitual  reserve,  made  them  more 
difficult  of  access.     Never  have  I  known  a  minister,  who  ac- 
quired a  wider  influence,  over  his  people ;  or  who  took  a 
stronger  hold  of  their  affections.     All,  who  enjoyed  the  ben- 
efits of  his  ministry,  here,  will  bear  testimony  to  the  truth  of 
this.     It  was  natural,  that  he  should  obtain  such  an  influence, 
over  those,  who  saw  the  conscientiousness,  with  which  he  de- 
voted himself  to  the  holy  cause,  to  which  he  was  pledged. 
This,  indeed,  was  the  idea,  which  seemed  to  fill  his  whole 


MEMOIR.  87 

soul,  to  color  all  his  tlionglits,  and  to  control  his  actions.  Not 
only  his  severer  studies,  but  his  lighter  accomplishments, 
which  serve,  with  most  men,  simplj  to  gratify  their  tastes, 
were  made  subservient,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  his  profes- 
sional calling.  His  love  of  music  was  an  example  of  this. 
Trinity  Church  will  long  have  occasion  to  remember  the  im- 
portant benefit,  rendered  to  it,  in  this  department.  But,  why 
should  I  speak  of  his  devotion,  to  his  professional  duties ; 
when  it  was  his  unremitting  efibrts,  in  their  performance,  that 
cost  him  his  life  ?  And,  greater  love  can  no  man  show,  for 
a  cause,  than  to  lay  dowai  his  life,  for  it."  "The  theme  is 
one,  on  which,  I  love  to  linger.  And,  as  I  think  of  the  friend, 
that  is  gone,  my  mind  is  filled  with  the  sweet,  though  sad, 
remembrances  of  the  past.  I  need  hardly  tell  you,  there  are 
many,  here,  the  friends  of  his  early  days,  who  can  never 
cease  to  cherish  the  warmest  recollection  of  his  virtues. 
Tliis  recollection  is  the  most  precious  legacy,  to  you,  and  for 
us  all." 

But,  two  more  bits,  to  our  Mosaic.  In  his  funeral  Sermon, 
Dr.  Higbee,  so  long  his  intimate  associate  and  friend,  thus 
testifies,  of  the  hapj^y  blending,  that  w^as  in  him,  of  the 
social  nature,  and  the  pastoral  responsibility.  "  True,  he  was 
known,  as  a  social  man,  kind,  and  cheerful,  and  genial,  to  the 
friends,  who  delighted  to  gather  round  him,  in  his  hospitable 
home,  and  elsewhere  :  and  this  often  led  to  a  mistake  of  his 
character  and  of  his  habits,  on  the  part  of  strangers  to  him  ; 
for  in  the  social  hour,  he  did  not  disfigure  his  face,  that  he 
might  appear  unto  men,  to  fast.  He  did  not  ostentatiously 
detail,  to  every  social  circle,  the  varied  weary  labors  of  the 
preceding  and  of  the  succeeding,  hours  :  the  punctual  dis- 
charge of  every  public  duty ;  the  rising,  to  toil,  before  the 
dawn  ;  the  midnight  vigils,  of  business,  of  study  and  of  devo- 
tion ;  the  intervening  visits,  in  sunshine  and  in  storm,  far  and 
neai",  through  the  streets  and  lanes  of  the  city,  to  the  cellars 


88  MEMOIR. 

and  garrets  of  poverty,  misery,  sickness,  and  death.  His 
nearest  friends  and  associates,  together  with  tlie  objects  of 
his  care,  alone  knew  this.  They  alone  knew  the  thorough- 
ness, with  which  he  made  the  duties  of  his  ministry,  the  busi- 
ness and  the  j^leasure  of  his  life." 

On  the  Sunday  following  his  burial,  the  Eev.  Dr.  Berrian, 
Kector  of  Trinity  Church,  delivered  an  aj^propriate  sermon. 
On  the  8th  of  December,  1819,  he  had  written,  to  Mr.  "VVain- 
wright,  just  elected,  an  Assistant  Minister  of  Trinity  Church, 
ISTew  York,  "  Permit  me  to  tell  you,  in  great  sincerity,  how 
much  I  am  rejoiced  at  your  appointment,  among  us.  The 
very  transient  intimacy,  with  you,  only  created  prepossessions, 
which  have  been  strengthened,  by  all  that  I  have  heard,  from 
your  friends  and  acquaintances."  Who  can  more  fitly  close 
this  record,  than  the  associate  of  five  and  thirty  years  ;  and, 
in  what  more  fitting  words,  can  it  be  closed,  than  these  ? 
"  He  made  the  faithful  and  laborious  discharge  of  the  duties 
of  life,  an  habitual  preparation,  for  the  hour  of  his  departure, 
and  his  final  release  from  his  labors  and  troubles.  It  was  a 
peculiarity  of  his  character,  from  the  beginning,  to  the  close, 
of  his  ministry,  that,  with  all  his  fondness  for  society,  for 
matters  of  taste,  for  literary  pursuits,  and  intellectual  enjoy- 
ments, he  never  lost  sight  of  the  higher  duties  of  his  sacred 
ofiice  ;  but  continued  to  reconcile  the  faithful  discharge  of 
them,  with  all  his  other  pursuits  and  employments.  He  was 
a  man  of  unwearied  industry,  borrowing,  from  the  night, 
whatever  was  lost  in  the  day ;  ready,  at  all  times,  for  any 
emergency  ;  systematic  in  his  studies,  and  persevering  in  his 
aims.  It  may  be  well  supposed,  that,  with  a  mind,  so  con- 
stituted, and  with  such  fixed  and  laborious  habits,  he  could 
scarcely  fail,  under  the  grace  and  blessing  of  God,  to  have 
made  himself  useful,  in  his  generation  ;  and,  after  a  well- 
spent  life,  to  have  been  ready  for  his  departure.  But,  alas, 
however  happy,  for  him,  that  his  anxieties  have  ceased,  that 


MEMOIE.  89 

his  labors  are  ended,  his  imniortality  put  on,  his  crown  of 
righteousness  attained,  we  must  regard  it,  as  a  general  ca- 
lamity, and  a  heavy  affliction,  to  ourselves.  Tlie  bland  and 
courteous  manner,  the  mild  virtues  and  Christian  graces,  the 
unwillingness  to  offend,  the  desire  to  please,  and  all  the 
gentler  traits,  for  which,  he  was  so  distinguished,  peculiarly 
fitted  him,  for  the  troublous  times,  and  perplexing  circum- 
stances, in  which  the  Diocese  was  found  ;  composing  the 
agitation,  and  softening  the  asperity  of  men's  minds,  and 
restoring  it,  in  a  measure,  to  harmony  and  peace.  The  stern 
and  inflexible  character,  the  prompt  and  decided  course,  the 
firmness  of  resolve,  the  tenacity  of  purpose,  and  unbending 
will,  which,  at  once,  command  our  admiration  and  fear,  it 
was  thought,  by  many,  were  not  so  w' ell  suited  to  the  actual 
condition  of  things,  as  the  engaging  qualities  and  peaceful 
administration,  which  would  heal  dissensions,  and  conciliate 
love  and  esteem.  But,  besides  these  qualities  of  our  de- 
parted friend,  he  had  many  other  qualifications  and  gifts,  to 
give  weight  to  his  office,  and  effect  to  his  labors.  With  a 
mind,  highly  cultivated,  from  his  very  youth,  which  was  con- 
stantly improved,  till  he  had  reached  old  age,  a  delicate  and 
refined  taste,  a  chaste  and  classical  style,  but,  yet,  simple 
and  perspicuous,  with  all  its  polish,  a  clear  and  methodical 
arrangement  of  his  thoughts,  and  lucid  treatment  of  his  sub- 
ject, which  made  him  always  intelligible  to  the  plainest  un- 
derstanding, as  well  as  pleasing,  to  the  most  intellectual  and 
refined,  it  is  no  matter  of  wonder,  that  he  attained,  at  a  very 
early  age,  great  popularity,  as  a  preacher  ;  wdiich  he  steadily 
preserved,  to  the  day  of  his  death.  Tlie  charm  of  his  dis- 
courses was  very  much  heightened,  also,  by  a  clear  and 
flexible  voice,  which  he  could  exert,  to  almost  any  extent, 
without  the  appearance  of  effort,  an  easy  and  graceful  elocu- 
tion, entire  self-command  and  self-j)ossession,  a  critical  ac- 
quaintance with  all  the  rules  of  art,  and  a  nice  observance 


90  MEMOIR. 

of  them,  both  in  his  reading  and  delivery  :  and  to  all  this  was 
added  an  imposing  personal  appearance,  which  gave  dignity 
and  effect  to  all  the  duties  of  his  office.  From  this  rare  com- 
bination of  gifts  and  graces,  he  adorned,  in  an  eminent 
degree,  his  high  and  holy  office  ;  and,  from  his  untiring 
labors,  carried,  alas,  beyond  mortal  strength  and  endurance, 
accomplished  more,  in  the  short  period  he  exercised  it,  than 
is  done,  by  ordinary  men,  in  many  years." 

What  was  jDroposed  is  done  :  the  sketch,  m  outline  ; 
with  the  pendant,  of  Mosaic  Memokies.  From  hands,  so 
various ;  from  points  of  view,  so  different ;  in  such  diverse 
lights  :  how  wonderful  the  perfect  harmony  !  And,  the  re- 
sult, how  beautiful :  childlike  simplicity  ;  womanly  tender- 
ness ;  heroic  endurance ;  unbounded  charity ;  a  saint's  de- 
votedness ;  the  self-sacrifice  of  a  martyr :  in  his  life,  how 
engaging  ;  in  his  death,  how  impressive  ;  how  blessed,  in  his 
immortality  ! 

"  Who  would  not  drop  tliis  load  of  clay ; 
And  die,  to  see  Thy  face  ?  " 

G.  W.  DOANE. 

KiVEESiDE,  February  11,  1856. 


SERMONS. 


THE   POSITION  AND  PROSPECTS  OE  THE 
CHURCH  OE  ENGLAND.* 


Psalm  xlviii.  12,  13. 

Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her ;  tell  the  towers  thereof. 
Mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks,  consider  her  palaces  ;  that  ye  may  tell  it  to 
the  generation  following. 

The  Church  iii  these  United  States  has  ever  felt, 
and  will  continue  to  cherish  a  deep  and  affectionate  in- 
terest in  the  well-being  of  the  Church  of  England.  I 
do  not  mean  by  this  title  the  Church  as  by  law  estab- 
hshed,  but  as  constituting  a  branch  of  the  one  Catholic 
and  Apostolic  Church,  which  the  civil  power  has  adopt- 

*  A  meeting  of  ten  of  the  Bishops  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in 
the  United  States  was  held  in  New  York,  April  29th,  1852,  to  take  into 
consideration  a  resolution  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel, 
transmitted  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  inviting  a  delegation  of  two 
or  more  of  the  Bishops  of  the  Church  in  America  to  be  present  at,  and 
take  part  in,  the  concluding  services  of  the  Society's  Jubilee  Year,  ending 
June  15th,  1852.     Bishops  McCoskry  and  Delancey  Avere  named  by  the 


94  THE   POSITION   AND    PROSPECTS    OF 

ed,  and  for  its  own  purposes  and  its  own  security  has 
made  the  State  religion,  but  which  in  its  Divine  Con- 
stitution has  rights  and  powers  which  no  authority  of 
man  could  confer,  and  therefore  which  no  merely  civil 
power  can  justly  control.  Regarded  as  a  State  Church 
alone,  but  little  sympathy  could  be  awakened  amongst 
us  for  the  Church  of  England ;  but  when  we  look 
upon  her  as  the  chief  branch  of  the  Protestant  and 
reformed  Church  of  Christ  on  earth,  we  hold  her  in 
great  love  and  veneration.  At  that  name  a  thousand 
ancient  and  holy  associations  are  quickened.  We  recur 
to  the  preface  to  our  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  that 
dearest  treasure  which  we  possess  next  to  God's  Holy 
Word,  and  there  read  what  our  forefathers  have  grate- 
fully recorded,  that  "to  her  we  are  indebted  under 
God  for  our  first  foundation,  and  a  long  continuance 
of  nursing  care  and  protection."  That  treasure,  too, 
gathered  up  and  stored  from  the  earliest  times,  and 
refined  by  her  wisdom,  zeal,  and  piety,  from  the  dross 
of  superstition  that  had  been  mixed  with  it,  she  con- 
veyed to  us,  and  we  offer  up  our  daily  worship  and 
celebrate  the  sacraments  of  our  Lord's  institution  in 
the  same  spirit  and  intention,  and  with  few  exceptions 

Bishops  present  as  suitable  representatives  in  the  Church's  belialf ;  hut  it 
being  uncertain  whether  they  could  undertake  this  mission,  the  Kev.  Dr. 
Wainwright,  Secretary  of  the  House  of  Bishops,  was  requested  by  the 
Bishops  met  in  New  York,  to  convey  a  copy  of  their  proceedings  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  President  of  the  Venerable  Society.  Dr. 
Wainwright  acceded  to  the  request,  and  was  present  at  the  jubilee  ser- 
vices. The  present  sermon  was  preached  by  him  soon  after  his  return  to 
the  United  States  in  1852. 


THE   CHUECH   OF    ENGLAND.  95 

in  tlie  self-same  words  with  her.  Our  Priesthood,  too, 
is  hers,  and  it  is  through  her  we  trace  up  our  Episco- 
pal succession  in  continuous  line,  even  to  those  twelve 
to  whom  the  Head  of  the  Church  gave  the  great  com- 
mission when  he  ascended  up  on  high.  Thus  then  are 
we  bound  in  all  filial  duty  to  respect  and  love  her,  be- 
cause we  have  manifold  proof  that  as  a  mother  she  has 
loved  and  fostered  us.  I  can  bear  witness,  that  what 
was  affection  alone  towards  us  in  our  feeble  infancy, 
has  become  largely  mingled  with  another  sentiment, 
and  that  she  now  entertains  for  us  a  sincere  respect, 
and  would  henceforth  embrace  us  upon  equal  terms  as 
a  sister  beloved. 

Assured,  then,-  of  the  mutual  and  holy  affection  that 
subsists  between  us,  I  cannot  doubt  of  the  interest 
which  you,  my  brethren,  as  members  of  the  one  Church, 
will  take,  in  hearing  somewhat  concerning  the  present 
condition  and  future  prospects  of  her  who,  once  your 
mother,  now  places  herself  in  relation  to  you  as  an  el- 
der sister.  Nor  can  I  doubt  of  the  propriety  of  giving 
your  thoughts  and  meditations  such  a  direction  even 
in  this  sacred  place,  and  upon  this  sacred  day.  The 
sights  upon  which  my  eyes  have  so  recently  dwelt  in 
delightful  admiration  amongst  sacred  edifices,  beautiful, 
august,  and  venerable,  and  which  can  never  fade  from 
my  memory;  the  solemn  services  of  prayers  and 
chants  and  anthems,  to  which  their  arches  day  by  day 
and  twice  a  day  resound,  and  which  yet  seem  to  ring 
within  my  ears  and  lift  my  soul  above ;  the  memory 
of  frequent  and  fervent  interchange  of  thought  with 


96  TIIE    POSITIOJS^    AISTD    PROSPECTS    OF 

brettren  beloved  in  the  Lord,  and  the  topics  of  con- 
versation ever  foremost  in  our  intercourse,  the  Church 
of  God,  her  dangers  and  defences,  "  her  welfare  and 
her  woe  ; " — all  this  has  concentrated  my  attention 
upon  a  subject  which  seems  to  me  to  find  a  not  inap- 
propriate expression  in  the  insjou-ed  words  of  the 
Psalmist: — "Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about 
her ;  tell  the  towers  thereof.  Mark  ye  well  her  bul- 
warks, consider  her  palaces ;  that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the 
generations  following." 

Zion  is  the  Church  of  God.  The  towers,  bulwarks, 
and  palaces  of  Zion,  are  the  doctrines,  ministry,  sac- 
raments, and  ordinances  of  the  Church,  and  the  insti- 
tutions by  which  they  are  sustained,  protected,  and 
perpetuated. 

It  has  been  my  high  privilege  and  my  grateful 
employment,  for  a  brief  space  of  time  to  walk  near,  if 
not  round  about,  one  chief  section  of  Zion ;  and  I  have 
endeavored,  according  to  the  ability  which  God  has 
given  me,  to  tell  her  towers,  to  mark  well  her  bul- 
warks, and  consider  her  palaces ;  and  I  would  tell  it 
to  this  generation,  that  they  are  many  and  strong,  and 
are  defended  by  faithful  hands  and  courageous  hearts. 
She  is  indeed  beleaguered  by  subtle  and  persevering 
foes  without,  and  may  possibly  yet  have  traitors,  and 
has  doubtless  lukewarm  friends  within.  Still  my  own 
conviction  authorizes  me  to  adopt  and  apply  to  her 
some  further  portions  of  the  Psalmist's  words : — "  Beau- 
tiful for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  Mount 
Zion.     God  is  known  in  her  palaces  for  a  refuge.     As 


THE   CHTJECH    OF   ENGLAND.  97 

we  have  lieard  so  liave  we  seen  in  the  city  of  the  Lord 
of  Hosts,  in  the  city  of  our  God  ;  God  will  establish  it 
for  ever."  Some  of  the  grounds  of  this  con^^ction, 
as  gathered  during  my  recent  visit,  I  cannot  doubt 
that  you  will  feel  interested  to  hear. 

I  need  not  explain  to  you  the  occasion  of  that  \dsit, 
as  it  is  well  understood  by  all  who  take  a  special  in- 
terest in  the  movements  of  the  Church.  I  may  say, 
however,  that  it  gave  me  opportunities  for  observa- 
tion, and  for  deriving  information  from  the  most  au- 
thentic sources,  that  were  peculiarly  favorable.  And 
in  this  connection,  I  am  bound  in  common  gratitude  to 
declare,  that  my  reception  was  all  that  warm  friend- 
ship or  brotherly  love  even  could  have  promj^ted. 
From  the  moment  in  which  I  set  my  foot  upon  the 
shores  of  that  friendly  island,  where  the  Church  of 
Christ  maintains  one  of  its  chiefest  and  most  impor- 
tant seats,  until  that  in  which  I  embarked  for  my  own 
beloved  home,  I  received  abundant  and  unintermitted 
proof  of  the  affection  and  respect  which  the  Church- 
men of  England  entertain  for  the  Church  in  these 
United  States.  For  I  could  not  approj^riate  to  myself, 
in  my  individual  capacity,  the  attentions  I  received 
from  such  numerous  and  distinguished  sources ; — I  felt 
that  they  were  extended  to  me  chiefly  as  holding  in 
some  sort  a  representative  character.  I  was,  indeed, 
but  the  bearer  of  a  friendly  message  from  a  number 
of  our  Bishops,  not  assembled  as  the  House  of  Bishops, 
but  acting  each  one  upon  his  individual  responsibility, 
in  answer  to  an  invitation,  not  from  the  Church  of 
7 


98  TITE   POSITION   AND   PEOSPECTS   OF 

England,  but  from  members  of  that  Cliurcli  formed 
into  a  Society  within  its  pale.  Thus,  then,  while  upon 
this  occasion  there  could  be  no  intercommunication 
between  the  two  Churches  in  their  corporate  capacity, 
it  afforded  clear  and  decided  evidence  of  the  yearning 
of  faithful  hearts  on  both  sides  of  the  wide  ocean  that 
separates  us,  for  that  union,  communion,  and  co-opera- 
tion, which  we  trust  in  Grod  to  see  once  again  restored 
to  the  Church  of  Christ ;  when  "  the  multitude  of 
those  that  believe  shall  be  of  one  heart  and  one  soul. " 
My  position  was,  in  many  respects,  a  most  gratify- 
ing one,  for  it  brought  me  into  friendly  and  frequent 
intercourse  with  Bishops,  Presbyters,  and  Laymen  of 
the  Church,  whose  names  I  had  long  been  accustomed 
to  reverence ;  from  the  able  works  of  many  of  whom 
upon  Christian  doctrine  and  the  princij^les  of  the 
Church,  I  had  received  much  instruction;  and  from 
personal  intercourse  with  whom  I  anticipated  a  large 
amount  of  information  and  of  social  gratification.  But 
I  soon  felt  it  to  be  a  position  of  anxious  responsibiHty ; 
and  when  appointments  to  preach  upon  important  oc- 
casions and  to  large  assemblies  of  the  most  distinguished 
members  of  the  Church  were  urged  upon  me,  I  well- 
nigh  shrunk  from  an  undertaking  which  I  felt  myself 
so  httle  qualified  to  discharge  in  a  satisfactory  manner. 
When,  therefore,  I  was  informed  by  letters  from  the 
Bishop  of  Michigan,  that  arrangements  had  been  made 
by  which  he,  with  his  associate  the  Bishop  of  Western 
New  York,  could  fulfil  their  mission  to  England  with- 
out neglecting  an  important  duty  that  seemed  at  first 


THE    CHURCH   OF   ENGLAISTD.  99 

to  present  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  tbeir  leaving 
Lome,  I  experienced  an  inexpressible  relief,  and  witli 
joyful  haste  I  communicated  tlie  intelligence  to  tlie 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  Bishop  of  London, 
and  others  who  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the 
occasion  of  our  visit. 

It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  express  to  you  in 
words  sufficiently  strong,  my  sense  of  the  importance  of 
this  ^dsit  of  our  Bishops.  The  presence  of  no  Presley  ter, 
and  no  number  of  Presbyters,  whatever  their  qualifica- 
tions might  have  been,  would  have  proved  a  su])stitute 
for  it.  More  especially  upon  the  occasion  of  that  glo- 
rious celebration  in  Westminster  Abbey,  when  the 
spacious  aisles  were  filled  with  a  great  assemblage  of 
the  faithful  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  and 
in  that  ancient  chancel  were  gathered  Bishops  of  the 
reformed  faith  from  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland, 
and  from  far  distant  missionary  dioceses  North  and 
South,  and  East  and  West,  would  it  not  have  been  a 
lamentable  deficiency  had  there  been  no  Bishops  of  the 
American  Church  present?  Should  not  we  of  that 
Church  have  ever  felt  a  deep  regret,  and  the  Prelates 
of  the  Church  who  presided  over  the  august  solemnity, 
and  the  zealous  members  of  the  Venerable  Society  who 
had  arranged  it,  would  they  not  with  one  voice  have 
said  that  something  was  wanting  to  their  joy?  But 
now  we  can  all  look  back  upon  it  with  the  liveliest 
satisfaction,  and  our  hearts  should  overflow  with  grat- 
itude to  God,  who  so  ordered  it  by  the  overruling  of 
his  Divine  Providence,  that  the  Church  in  America, 


100  THE   POSITIOTf   AND    PROSPECTS    OF 

whose  spiritual  destitution  first  suggested  the  forma- 
tion of  tlie  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel 
in  Foreign  Parts,  should  be  represented,  and  should 
have  the  privilege  of  taking  an  appropriate  share  in 
the  offering  of  Praise  and  Thanksgiving  upon  the  clos- 
ing of  the  Jubilee  Yeak. 

Would,  my  brethren,  that  you  could  have  been 
present  upon  that  auspicious  day,  or  would  that  I  had 
the  graphic  power  to  paint  what  then  took  place  to 
your  imaginations.  But  if  one  would  hesitate  to  at- 
tempt the  description  of  that  majestic  temple,  and  tell 
the  emotions  that  filled  his  soul,  as  its  towers,  buttresses 
and  pinnacles  first  rose  upon  his  sight ;  and  how  he 
was  subdued,  and  well  nigh  prostrated,  by  an  over- 
powering awe,  as  he  entered  within,  and  looked  upon 
its  many  clustered  columns  shooting  heavenward,  and 
lightly  bearing  up  its  groined  and  massive  roof,  re- 
treating arch  beyond  arch  in  graceful  lines,  and  stretch- 
ing far  away  till  almost  lost  to  view ;  and  how  as  he 
slowly  paced  the  long  drawn  aisles,  and  gazed  upon  the 
storied  windows  and  walls  that  speak  to  the  passers  by 
at  every  step,  from  lifelike  statue  or  monumental  rec- 
ord, the  si)irits  of  England's  mighty  dead  seemed  roused 
from  their  sleep  of  centuries,  and  to  gather  thick  around 
him  ;  if  he  would  falter  in  this  attempt,  how  could  he 
dare  venture  upon  that  scene  when  this  time-honored 
temple, — choir,  and  nave,  and  aisles, — was  filled  to  its 
utmost  capacity  with  a  devout,  expectant  crowd,  silent 
and  prayerful ;  and  as  the  majestic  organ  in  signal  of 
the  opening  of  the  solemnities,  pealed  its  trumpet  notes 


THE   CHURCH   OF   ENGLAIfD.  101 

throngli  tlie  eclioing  arches,  tliey  all  arose,  and  the 
long  procession  of  white-robed  choristers  and  snrpliced 
priests  opened  the  way  for  the  fathers  of  the  Church, 
who,  habited  in  their  grave  bnt  comely  robes  of  silk 
and  lawn,  ascended  the  steps  of  the  ancient  chancel, 
and  knelt  as  a  loving  brotherhood  around  a  common 
altar ;  and  then  there  came  in  due  order  the  solemn 
service,  with  the  loud  response  of  voices  like  the  sound 
of  many  waters ;  and  the  inspiring  chant  and  full- 
voiced  anthem ;  the  eloquent  words  of  godly  admoni- 
tion and  encouragement  from  one  of  the  chief  of  Eng- 
land's prelates ;  and  to  crown  the  festal  joy,  the  sacred 
table  spread  with  the  symbols  of  a  Saviour's  dying 
love,  round  which  were  standing  hundreds  meekly 
waiting  their  time  to  draw  near,  and  other  hundreds 
returning  from  the  feast,  their  faces  beaming  with  joy 
and  love  ; — who  could  describe  all  this  in  words  that 
could  approach  the  sublimity  of  the  scene  ?  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  it  can  only  be  faintly  imagined  by  those  to 
whom  the  privilege  of  having  witnessed  it  has  not 
been  granted. 

But,  my  brethren,  the  meaning  and  the  tendency 
of  this  gathering  from  distant  regions,  of  Prelates, 
Priests  and  Laymen,  and  of  the  glorious  service  at 
which  they  assisted  with  one  consent,  as  though  it  had 
been  the  offering  of  heart  and  voice  from  one  mighty 
man,  can  be  understood  and  felt  by  you  who  were  not 
present,  as  well  as  by  those  who  were.  You  can  un- 
derstand and  feel,  and  the  whole  of  Christendom  will 
understand  and  feel,  how  the  Church  of  England  spoke 


102  THE   POSITION   AND   PKOSPECTS    OF 

ont  tlirougli  tlie  only  organ  by  which  she  can  now 
give  utterance  to  her  longings,  and  proclaimed  her 
ardent  desire  for  the  restoration  of  that  unity  which 
shall  be  at  once  the  strongest  proof  that  the  Church 
Catholic  truly  subsists  in  the  reformed  portion  of  it, 
and  the  clearest  manifestation  of  her  possessing  that 
grace,  and  exercising  that  power  which  shall  effectually 
help  on  the  great  and  good  design.  These  longings 
we  also  have  deeply  felt,  and  to  this  loving  call,  we,  as 
we  were  best  able  at  the  time,  have  responded. 

In  order,  however,  that  you  may  the  better  com- 
prehend the  full  import  of  the  jubilee  celebration,  and 
be  convinced  that  in  it  and  through  it  the  heart  of  the 
Church  of  England  swelled  and  warmed  towards  us 
and  all  the  flock  of  Christ  wherever  dispersed,  I  will 
for  a  moment  recur  to  it.  That  celebration  took  place 
upon  the  conclusion  of  the  third  half  century  of  the 
existence  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts.  The  Society  was  established 
in  a  time  of  great  and  pressing  need,  when  there  was 
a  loud  call  for  missionary  labors  in  the  distant  depend- 
encies of  England,  and  es23ecially  in  these  United 
States,  which  were  then  feeble  colonies.  The  sad 
spiritual  destitution  of  their  brethren  excited  an  ear- 
nest wish  amongst  the  devout  members  of  the  Church 
of  England,  that  some  means  should  be  provided  for 
its  remedy.  But  the  Church,  as  a  Church,  could  do 
nothing; — she  was  in  shackles,  bound  to  the  State. 
Every  possible  exertion  was  made  to  rouse  the  civil 
government  to  a  sense  of  its  obligation  to  provide  for 


THE  CHUECn  OF  ENGLAND.  103 

tlie  welfare  and  extension  of  tlie  Churcli,  inasmncli  as 
it  liad  undertaken  to  control  the  action  of  the  Church. 
Faithful  missionaries  here,  and  zealous  members  of  the 
Church  at  home,  plead  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and 
earnestly  petitioned  the  Parliament ;  but  all  in  vain, 
for  a  narrow,  selfish,  ungodly,  worldly  policy,  prevailed. 
The  interests  of  the  Church  being  thus  neglected  by 
the  State,  which  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  her 
famishino;  children,  it  was  time  for  the  individual  effort 
of  the  faithful  to  make  itself  felt.  It  did  so,  and  the 
Great  Head  of  the  Church  blessed  and  prospered  the 
movement  which  produced  a  voluntary  association,  to 
which,  after  a  while,  a  chartered  existence  was  given, 
under  the  significant  name  which  the  Society  bears. 
Now  this  Society  was  to  us  an  affectionate,  nursing 
mother,  up  to  the  very  period  when  our  independence 
as  a  nation  was  proclaimed ;  and  every  where  through- 
out the  original  States  of  the  confederation,  may  be 
found  the  evidences  of  her  fostering  care.  She  was  to 
us  the  Church  of  England.  We  were  not  nurtured 
and  tended  by  the  State.  The  State  neglected  us, 
despised  our  entreaties,  and  would  have  left  us  to  per- 
ish in  our  infant  strugglings.  In  some  quarters  we 
have  been  reproached  as  being  the  offspring  of  the 
State,  and  thence  an  odium  has  attached  to  us.  But 
this  is  not  just.  To  the  Church  as  alUed  to  the  State, 
are  we  under  no  obligations ;  and  to  such  a  Church 
are  we  drawn  by  no  fond  associations  of  being  once 
connected  with  her.  Even  the  Episcopacy,  which  a 
spiritual  and  independent  Church  would  not  only  joy- 


104  THE   POSITIOTf   AND   PROSPECTS    OF 

fully  have  given  us  at  our  first  entreaty,  or  ratlier  of 
her  own  accord  and  out  of  the  fulness  of  her  charity, 
would  have  sent  to  us  ere  we  felt  our  want,  she  tardily 
and  ungraciously  yielded  to  us ;  and  then  gave  it  bound 
in  with  degrading  and  uncatholic  conditions,  which  are 
yet  but  partially  removed.  When,  therefore,  in  the 
Preface  to  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  to  which  I 
have  before  alluded,  we  read  that  to  the  Church  of 
England,  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  these 
United  States  is  indebted,  under  God,  for  her  iirst 
foundation,  and  a  long  continuance  of  nursing  care  and 
protection; — it  is  not,  again  I  emphatically  say,  the 
Church  as  by  law  estal^lished,  but  the  Church  as  a 
branch  of  the  one   Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church,* 

*  The  Church  of  England  has  been  thus  characterized  by  one  of  her  own 
distinguished  prelates :  "  We  recognize  in  her  a  Church  scriptural  in  doc- 
trine, Apostolic  in  constitution  and  form ;  a  Church  appealing  to  the 
written  Word  of  God  as  the  sole  standard  of  truth  ;  but  in  its  interpreta- 
tion not  despising  or  neglecting  the  witness  of  Catholic  antiquity ;  but 
rather  thankfully  accepting  its  guidance,  and  humbly  deferring  to  it ;  a 
Church  which  has  neither  added  to  the  sacraments  ordained  of  Christ, 
nor  diminished  aught  therefrom,  nor  has  lost  or  impaired  that  ordinance 
of  a  threefold  ministry,  to  which  those  sacraments  were  intrusted  from 
the  tirst ;  a  Church  treasuring  in  its  Liturgy  the  express  image  of  ancient 
and  catholic  piety,  and  embodying  the  spirit  of  the  same,  even  when  it 
nas  given  it  a  new  outward  mould  and  form ;  a  Church  in  its  articles 
vindicating  God's  truth  from  the  corruptions  wherewith  it  had  been 
overlaid,  and  giving  its  members  a  scriptural  rule  whereby  to  walk ;  a 
Church  Avhose  title  to  our  reverence  is  not  that  it  is  established  by  the 
State ; — though  for  its  usefulness  we  prize  this  union,  and  trust  ever  to 
maintain  it,— but  which  claims  o.ur  loving  obedience,  as  being  the  true 
Church  of  Christ,  tracing  back  its  origin  to  the  Apostles  of  our  Lord, 
and  deriving  its  spiritual  rights  and  powers  from  no  human  ordinance, 
but  from  the  Head  and  fountain  of  spiritual  life  and  light." 


TIIE   CHURCH   OF   EIS^GLAND.  105 

who  iu  her  straitened  condition,  as  a  bondwoman, 
lias  been  compelled  to  avail  herself  of  auxiliary  help 
in  carrying  out  the  purposes  of  her  institution.  The 
chief  of  these  auxiliaries  in  age,  efficiency,  and  the 
maintenance  of  sound,  consistent  principles  of  Church 
polity,  are  the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Know- 
ledge, and  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel 
in  Foreign  Parts. 

Now  as  regards  these  and  other  kindred  societies, 
it  is  well  that  the  true  principle  of  their  foundation,  in 
connection  with  the  Church,  should  be  understood,  and 
with  this  view  I  shall  quote  for  your  information  a 
passage  from  a  work  of  one  of  the  living  lights  of  the 
Church  of  England. 

"  Were  the  Catholic  Church  in  a  sound  and  united 
state,  able  to  discharge  all  her  duties,  such  combina- 
tions would  be  unnecessary ;  and  being  unnecessary 
they  would  be  hurtful,  as  dividing  and  dispersing  those 
energies,  to  which  she  has  the  sole  and  entire  right. 
For  the  idea  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  all  that  in  one, 
which  we  imperfectly  endeavor  to  shape  out  by  our  in- 
numerable and  partial,  and  therefore  most  unsatisfac- 
tory, combinations.  The  Church  is  a  Society  for  j^romot- 
ing  Christian  knowledge  ;  for  propagating  the  Gospel 
in  foreign  parts  ;  for  building  churches ;  for  educating 
the  poor  ;  and  for  whatever  other  purpose  would  con- 
duce to  the  being  of  God's  Kingdom  where  as  yet  it 
is  not,  and  its  well-being  where  it  is.  She  has  her 
Eucharistical  sacrifice  of  alms,  to  provide  the  funds  for 
all  those,  and  all  other  holy  and  bountiful  j^urposes ; 


106  THE   POSITIOlSr   AND    PKOSPECTS    OF 

slie  has  her  Bishops  to  be  stewards,  responsible  receiv- 
ers of  those  funds,  and  her  Deacons  to  assist  in  the 
labor  of  keeping  and  disbursing  them.  She  is  present 
at  once  in  all  nations,  keeping  up  among  all  her  mem- 
bers that  full  unreserved  communication  which  may 
best  enable  her  to  distribute  her  treasures,  so  that  the 
abundance  of  one  portion  shall  be  a  supply  for  the 
want  of  another.  Finally,  above  all,  she  is  a  Society 
divinely  instituted  for  these  very  purposes ;  whereas 
these,  our  modern  charities,  however  good  and  useful, 
are  but  inventions  of  men." 

The  same  learned  author  goes  on  to  say,  in  defence 
of  this  view  of  the  nature  and  design  of  the  Christian 
Church :  "  Nor  am  I  merely  sj)eaking  here  of  the 
theory  or  idea  of  the  Church  as  of  some  Utopian  or 
Platonic  Commonwealth.  Those  who  know  any  thing 
of  Christian  antiquity,  know  that  for  many  hundred 
years  it  actually  corresponded  to  this  description." 

Such  indeed  is  the  true  idea  of  the  Church,  and  it 
should  be  the  constant  prayer  and  effort  of  every  faith- 
ful follower  of  Christ  every  where,  that  she  may  be 
able  to  resume  her  pristine  power  and  influence,  and 
thus  scatter  her  peaceful  blessings  amongst  the  dis- 
tracted and  divided  sons  of  men,  and  bring  them  once 
more  to  act  together  in  unity  of  faith  and  love.  In 
that  day  shall  this  song  be  sung  in  the  land  of  Judah  : 
"  We  have  a  strong  city.  Salvation  will  God  appoint 
for  walls  and  bulwarks."  Then  will  Zion  be  indeed  a 
strong  city ;  and  those  who  go  about  her  to  tell  her 
towers,  to  mark  her  bulwarks,  and  consider  her  palaces, 


THE  CHUECH  OF  ENGLAND.  107 

will  not  liave  to  mourn  over  breaches  tliat  need  repair, 
and  deficiencies  that  require  supply.  But  if  we  have 
cause  to  lament,  that  much  needs  be  done  to  restore 
the  Church  to  this  powerful  and  prosperous  state,  we 
have  more  cause  to  rejoice  at  the  abundant  manifesta- 
tions that  the  sons  of  the  Church  are  beginning  to  be 
in  earnest  in  taking  hold  of  the  work  they  have  to 
perform. 

It  is  because  it  comes  in  strong  proof  of  this  asser- 
tion, that  I  look  back  upon  the  recent  jubilee  celebra- 
tion with  such  deep  satisfaction,  and  would  persuade 
you  to  look  upon  it  not  as  a  solemn  pageant  that  has 
passed  away,  and  to  be  contemplated  with  a  transient 
interest,  or  to  be  entii^ely  forgotten.  Not  so  :  it  estab- 
lished an  influence  that  will  be  permanent  and  growing. 
It  was  a  bright  and  blessed  day,  that  will  be  prolific 
of  many  brighter  and  more  blessed  days  that  are  to 
follow.  It  was  a  manifestation  of  the  strusrsfling^s  of 
the  inner  life  of  the  Church  for  fuller  developments 
and  wider  action.  It  was  a  gushing  up  of  the  sap  in 
the  true  vine  which  shall  make  it  blossom,  and  bring 
forth  beautiful  clusters,  which  shall  swell  to  maturity 
and  ripen  in  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 
And  this  because  it  was  the  workino-  of  the  Church 
of  England  in  the  only  way  in  which  she  was  at  liberty 
to  work  towards  the  restoration  of  unity  in  the  Church 
Catholic. 

As  you  have  seen,  she  could  not  act  in  her  spiritual 
relations  as  an  independent  Church,  holding  communion 
with  independent  churches  united  in  a  common  Head. 


108  THE   POSITION   AND   PROSPECTS    OF 

eveu  Christ  Jesus.  She  is  so  trammelled  hj  the  State 
alliance  in  which  she  is  held,  that  she  could  only  have 
invited  us  to  join  her  by  the  State  and  through  the 
State.  Such  an  invitation  would  have  been  mysterious 
language  to  us,  nor  do  I  see  how  we  could  have  con- 
sistently accepted  it.  But  coming  as  it  did,  it  was  free 
from  all  objection.  It  was  the  voice  of  love  from 
brethren  asking  the  sympathy  of  distant  brethren,  and 
in  the  spirit  of  love  it  was  responded  to.  And  from 
all  that  took  place  upon  that  auspicious  occasion,  we 
are  convinced  that  a  vast  step  was  then  taken  towards 
the  accomplishment  of  a  mighty  end,  the  restoration 
of  a  visible  unity  to  Christ's  Church  throughout  the 
world.  Was  it  not  symbolized  in  the  gathering  to- 
gether of  Bishops  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
who  united  their  voices  in  the  same  prayers,  praises, 
and  thanksgivings,  knelt  together  as  a  loving  band  of 
brothers  at  one  altar,  partook  of  the  same  sacrifice,  and 
with  alternate  hands  distributed  the  sacred  feast  to  a 
mingled  multitude  from  many  folds,  but  all  profess- 
ing a  common  faith,  and  united  as  one  under  a  common 
Head,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  The  Church  of  Eng- 
land, then,  moved  by  this  spiiit  of  Christian  love, 
manifesting  this  earnest  desire  for  that  unity  which  is 
a  true  note  of  the  true  Church,  and  carrying  out  this 
desire  in  such  powerful  and  successful  action ;  will  you 
not  join  with  me  in  expressing  the  conviction  that  we 
may  go  round  about  her,  and  tell  her  towers,  and  mark 
her  bulwarks,  and  consider  her  palaces,  and  return 
from  our  examination  with  the  conviction  that  her 


THE    CHUKCII    OF   ENGLAND.  109 

strength  is  great,  her  defences  unshaken,  and  her  ulti- 
mate triumph  certain. 

But  if  one  single  joyous  day  of  jubilee  celebration 
produced  this  conviction,  how  greatly  was  it  strength- 
ened by  many  successive  days  spent  in  friendly  inter- 
course with  the  fatliers,  priests,  and  lay  brethren  of  the 
Church,  in  seeing  their  abundant  labors  and  sacrifices, 
hearing  about  their  plans  for  the  extension  of  the  Ee- 
deemer's  Kingdom,  witnessing  their  well  directed  zeal, 
and  beholding  every  where  the  fruits  of  their  munifi- 
cent donations  in  restoring  the  ancient  and  decaying 
consecrated  places,  building  new  and  beautiful  churches 
wherever  there  was  need,  both  in  rural  districts  and 
in  the  poor  and  populous  neighborhoods  of  large  cities, 
takins:  anxious  care  for  the  instruction  of  the  masses 
of  the  23eo23le,  so  that  the  remotest  and  smallest  ham- 
let shall  have  its  school  where  the  elements  of  useful 
knowleda'e  are  tauscht,  in  close  connection  with  that 
better  and  more  important  knowledge  which  the 
Word  of  God  and  his  Church  can  alone  impart ;  and 
not  resting  satisfied  with  making  ample  provision  for 
the  instruction  and  spiritual  edification  of  the  poor  and 
destitute  at  home,  but  laying  plans  with  wisdom  and 
forecast,  and  executing  them,  one  after  one,  with  energy 
and  hberahty,  for  giving  the  Church  in  its  comj^lete 
organization  to  the  most  distant  colonies  and  to  heathen 
lands. 

Of  all  this,  and  much  more,  in  connection  with  the 
building  uj)  and  extension  of  the  Church,  and  in  the 
promotion  of  works  of  piety  and  benevolence,  could  I 


110  THE   POSITIOlSr   AND   PEOSPECTS    OF 

speak  in  full  detail,  and  give  tlie  manifold  proof  by 
specific  instances,  would  the  time  permit,  and  then  you 
would  not  hesitate  to  declare  with  me  that  the  walk 
about  Ziou  has  presented  subjects  for  contemplation 
that  should  cheer  and  encourage  the  hearts  of  all  de- 
vout sons  of  the  Church.  That  we  have  seen  no 
defects  in  her  towers  and  bulwarks,  and  no  deformity 
in  her  palaces,  it  would  be  want  of  sincerity  and  truth 
to  assert.  I  have  already  alluded  to  one  which  is  a 
deformity  in  our  sight,  and,  in  our  judgment,  a  cause 
of  injury  to  the  Church  by  reason  of  the  impediments 
thrown  in  the  way  of  her  free  action.  We  have  seen 
how  this  alliance  of  Church  and  State  operated  to  our 
great  disadvantage  in  the  earlier  periods  of  our  history, 
and  in  many  ways  the  same  deleterious  influence  is 
still  at  work.  But  the  question  is  one  full  of  difficul- 
ties, and  we  are  in  no  position  to  judge  of  it  impar- 
tially and  intelligently.  We  can  see,  however,  that  a 
violent  and  sudden  disruption  of  the  union  would  be 
attended  with  the  most  baneful  consequences.  Intelli- 
gent and  zealous  members  of  the  Church  are  now 
anxiously  seeking  how  this  and  all  other  imperfections 
may  be  lessened  or  removed,  and  how  the  efficiency  of 
the  Church  may  be  increased.  There  is  indeed  a  spirit 
of  love  and  zeal  and  wisdom  now  manifested,  which 
cannot  fail  of  producing  the  happiest  results.  Party 
spirit  is  obviously  growing  less ;  extreme  opinions  on 
both  sides  of  contested  questions  are  far  less  frequent, 
and  less  violently  expressed.  Brethren  who  once  stood 
aloof  from  each  other  in  attitudes  of  suspicion  are  now 


THE  CHUECH  OF  ENGLAND.  Ill 

drawing  nearer,  and  convinced  of  tlie  purity  and  in- 
tegrity of  eacli  other's  motives,  are  preparing  to  lay 
aside  smaller  differences,  and  join  heart  and  hand  in 
the  great  work  that  is  before  them.  While  the  Church 
of  England  exhibits,  as  she  does,  these  symptoms  of 
life  and  health,  we  feel  no  disposition  to  dwell  longer 
at  this  time  upon  imperfections.  Besides,  to  treat  of 
the  imi)erfections  of  any  Church,  is  a  responsible  as 
well  as  painful  task,  more  especially  when  that  Church 
is  our  mother,  and  she  a  loving  one,  in  whose  venerable 
halls  we  have  been  received  with  a  cordial  hospitality. 
Our  walk  about  Zion  has  left  only  love  and  veneration 
for  the  tokens  she  has  given  of  her  affection  for  us,  and 
hope  and  courage  in  view  of  the  glorious  career  she  is 
yet  destined  to  run.  She  will  shake  from  her  the 
secular  chains  by  which  her  freedom  has  been  con- 
strained ;  her  divisions  and  dissensions  will  be  healed ; 
her  latent  energies  will  l)e  put  forth  ;  her  enemies  will 
be  scattered  before  her,  or,  rather,  she  will  win  them 
to  her  ranks,  and  they  vfill  fight  with  her  in  close  alli- 
ance against  those  who  are  the  only  real  enemies  of 
the  Church,  tlie  powers  of  Satan. 

I  would  call  upon  you,  then,  to  unite  with  me  in 
gratitude  to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  for  what 
he  has  wrought,  and  is  yet  working  towards  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  own  blessed  prayer  :  "  That  they 
all  may  be  one ;  as  thou.  Father,  art  in  me  and  I  in 
thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us  ;  that  the  world 
may  believe  that  thou  hast  sent  me."  The  unity  of 
the  Church  is  here  made  the  condition  of  the  conver- 


112  THE   POSITION   AND    PEOSPECTS    OF 

sion  of  the  world  to  the  faith  of  Christ.  When  the 
Church  is  one,  then  will  the  world  be  compelled  to 
believe  in  its  heavenly  origin.  But  till  then  the  timid 
will  fear,  the  unstable  will  doubt,  the  infidel  will 
scoff.  Dissensions  will  keep  brethren  apart  who 
should  love  one  another,  and  work  together  hand  in 
hand,  to  gather  in  the  fields  which  are  ripe  unto  the 
harvest.  The  unity  of  the  Church  then  should  be  the 
unceasing  prayer  of  all  God's  people.  Let  it  be  ours 
more  and  more,  and  with  ever  increasing  warmth. 
And  as  we  pray,  let  us  also  strive.  Prayer  without 
effort  is  mockery,  as  effort  without  prayer  is  presump- 
tion. Let  us  strive  then,  each  one,  to  bring  his  own 
heart  at  unity  with  God  by  repentance,  faith,  and  obe- 
dience ;  and  at  unity  with  the  brethren  by  meekness, 
forbearance,  and  charit}^  Let  all  bitterness  and  wrath, 
and  anger  and  clamor,  and  evil  speaking  be  put  away 
from  you,  with  all  malice,  and  be  ye  kind  one  to  an- 
other, tender-hearted,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as 
God  for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you.  Until  this 
be  the  temper  of  individual  minds  and  hearts,  in  vain 
shall  we  look  for  peace  and  unity,  and  zealous  co- 
operation in  the  great  assemblies  of  the  faithful.  If, 
then,  we  honestly  and  sincerely  desu'e  the  unity  of  the 
Church  as  the  essential  preparation  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  blessed  purpose  for  which  it  was  estab- 
lished, viz.,  the  bringing  all  men  unto  that  agreement 
in  the  faith  and  knowledge  of  God,  and  to  that  ripe- 
ness and  perfectness  of  age  in  Christ,  that  there  be  no 
place  left  amongst  us,  either  for  error  in  religion  or  for 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  113 

viciousness  of  life,^ — if  this  we  sincerely  and  lionestly 
desire,  let  us  begin  the  work  with  ourselves,  and  follow 
it  up  faithfully  with  ourselves  ;  and  then  shall  we  he 
in  the  state  in  which  we  may  come  boldly  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  there  offer  up  earnest  prayers 
which  shall  not  be  unheeded,  that  the  dispersed  and 
divided  members  of  Christ's  sacred  body  may  speedily 
be  made  one  in  faith  and  love. 


A  PLEA  FOR  MISSIONS.* 


ECCLESIASTES,    XI.    1,    2. 

Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters :  for  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many- 
days.  Give  a  portion  to  seven,  and  also  to  eight ;  for  thou  knowest  not 
what  evil  shall  be  upon  the  earth. 

Theee  is  a  striking  analogy  between  the  spiritual 
condition  of  man,  and  Ms  wants  and  infirmities  as  a 
corporeal  being.  This  analogy  is  the  source  of  very 
much  of  the  figurative  language  of  the  sacred  volume. 
To  be  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked,  is  to  be  destitute  of 
the  knowledge,  the  consolations,  and  saving  faith  of 
the  Gospel.  To  be  hungry  and  thirsty,  is  anxiously  to 
desire  these  invaluble  privileges,  and  earnestly  to  seek 
for  theii'  attainment. 

*  This  Sermon  was  preached  before  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Do- 
mestic and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church 
in  the  United  States,  in  St.  James's  Church,  Philadelphia,  Tuesday,  May 
13th,  1828.  Dr.  Wainwright  was  Kector  of  Grace  Church,  New  York, 
at  the  time,  and  the  Sermon  was  published  at  the  request  of  the  Board. 


A   PLEA   FOR   jnSSIONS.  115 

Upon  siicli  authority  I  venture  to  accommodate  the 
words  of  my  text  to  the  interesting  subject  which  you 
expect  will  be  presented  to  your  notice  on  the  present 
occasion.  The  Royal  Preacher  undoubtedly  had  refe- 
rence to  the  obligation  and  the  advantage  of  relieving 
the  temjDoral  wants  of  our  feUow-creatures ;  but  we 
may,  I  think,  discover  in  the  same  words  an  exhortation 
and  an  encouragement  to  alleviate  their  more  urgent 
and  more  universal  spiritual  necessities.  The  bread 
OF  LIFE  we  are  to  cast  unsparingly  and  extensively 
upon  the  wide  waters  of  this  world's  sinfulness  and 
ignorance  ;  we  are  not  to  regard  it  as  lost  or  unprofit- 
ably  spent  because  we  do  not  instantly  behold  its  good 
effects ;  we  are  to  have  confidence  in  the  Di^dne  prom- 
ise, that  after  many  days  we  shall  most  assuredly  find 
it,  in  its  blessed  influences  upon  the  perishing  nations. 
According  to  the  measure  with  which  God  hath  favored 
us,  we  are  to  give  a  portion  of  our  spiritual  privileges 
to  seven,  and  also  to  eight ;  for  we  know  not  what  cir- 
cumstances may  be  upon  the  earth,  that  shall  cause  our 
Christian  benevolence  to  redound  to  our  own  future 
advantage. 

The  words  of  the  text  thus  applied,  present  to  you, 
my  brethren,  the  outline  of  a  subject  upon  which  I 
enter  with  a  deep  sense  of  its  importance,  and  with  an 
unfeigned  distrust  of  my  ability  to  treat  it  in  a  suitable 
manner,  but  with  devout  reliance  upon  the  assistance 
of  that  Spirit  without  whom  nothing  is  either  strong 
or  holy.  May  He,  who  inspired  prophets  to  foretell 
the  future  glories  of  the  millennial  Church,  who  gave 


116  A   PLEA   FOE   MSSIOTfS. 

tongues  of  fire  and  hearts  of  zeal  to  apostolic  men  to 
proclaim,  in  every  language,  tlie  unsearchable  riches 
of  Christ ;  who  is  the  Teacher  of  all  spiritual  knowl- 
edge, the  Author  of  all  good  desires  and  j)i*ofitable 
labors ;  may  He  now  be  present  with  us,  and  so 
strengthen  the  preacher,  and  enlighten  the  minds  and 
soften  the  hearts  of  the  hearers,  that  we  may  all  go 
from  hence,  more  faithful  subjects  of  King  Messiah, 
more  convinced  of  the  blessings  of  his  reign  on  earth, 
more  resolutely  determined  to  extend  the  borders  of 
his  emj^ire. 

Our  attention  then  is  to  be  directed  towards  the 
duty  of  sending  forth  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  as  widely 
as  possible,  even  till  it  reaches  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  penetrates  every  desert  place  upon  its  wide  circum- 
ference. "Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters."  The 
mighty  ocean  covers  much  the  largest  portion  of  this 
world  on  which  we  dwell ;  it  can  bear  about  with  the 
greatest  facility,  and  rapidity,  and  universality,  the 
treasm'es  that  are  entrusted  to  it ;  it  encircles  every 
island,  washes  the  shores  of  every  continent,  and  com- 
municates with  theii"  deepest  recesses  by  rivers  and 
bays,  its  majestic  arms.  Here  we  find  an  illustration 
of  the  anticipations  we  are  taught  to  indulge  in  regard 
to  the  extent  of  Christ's  Kingdom,  and  an  amplification 
of  the  words  of  prophecy,  that  "  the  earth  shall  be  full 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the 
sea."  Here  also  we  find  the  only  boundaries  which  are 
to  limit  our  thoughts  and  lal^ors  in  the  sublime  cause 
of  Missions.     The  Gospel  is  not  to  be  restricted  to  one 


A   PLEA   FOR   MSSIONS  117 

nation,  or  kindred,  or  people, — it  is  destined  in  its  sure 
and  ii'resistible  progress  to  reach  and  pervade  all.  To 
what  extent,  as  regards  individuals,  the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  are  to  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord 
and  of  his  Christ,  whether  every  li\T:ng  and  account- 
able creature,  in  any  one  future  age,  will  be  brought 
to  accept  the  offered  terms  of  salvation,  we  know  not ; 
but  of  this  we  are  assured,  that  God  designs  the  Gos- 
pel to  be  preached  to  all,  and  has  appointed  a  period 
in  the  duration  of  the  world  when  every  intelligent 
being,  from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  shall  have  the 
opportunity  of  knowing  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
Where  then  are  we  Christians  to  limit  our  prayers,  our 
projects,  and  our  exertions  ?  We  do  not  confine  our 
j)rayers, — we  daily  beseech  our  Almighty  Father  that 
his  Kingdom  may  come,  and  his  will  be  done  on  earth 
even  as  it  is  in  heaven.  In  heaven  his  will  is  univer- 
sally performed,  and  his  name  adored  by  every  blessed 
inhabitant  there.  Our  prayers  then  reach  forth  in  as- 
pirations after  a  like  universal  exhibition  of  obedience 
and  love  here  below.  But  what  is  the  extent  of  our 
projects  and  our  exertions  ?  I  fear  that  we  shall  dis- 
cover them  to  be  limited,  cramped,  and  restrained. 
Cold  selfishness,  and  cowardly  policy,  and  lifeless  at- 
tempts, have  been  too  often  and  too  long  the  character- 
istics of  many  of  those  who  call  themselves  disciples 
of  Christ.  When  I  consider  what  the  Missionary  cause 
is — ^that  its  design  is  to  communicate  to  our  brethren 
of  the  human  family  who  are  destitute  of  them,  bless- 
ings and  privileges  which  w^e  esteem  invaluable  and 


118  A  PLEA  FOR  ]vnssio]srs. 

essential ;  to  impart  knowledge  wliich  we  possess  to 
beings  like  ourselves,  wko  are  absolutely  perisbing  for 
lack  of  it ;  and  wben  I  consider,  tbat  by  imparting  we 
diminish  not  tbe  smallest  portion  of  our  own  privileges 
and  advantages,  I  am  in  utter  amazement  that  this 
cause  is  not  more  zealously  promoted.  And  were  it 
proper  to  introduce  private  feelings,  I  would  add,  that 
I  am  grieved  and  humiliated  that  it  has  not  heretofore 
occupied  a  much  larger  space  in  my  own  meditations 
and  labors. 

We  have  every  motive,  as  enlightened  men  and 
sincere  Christians,  to  enter  into  this  cause  with  full 
purpose  of  heart,  never  to  abandon  or  grow  cold  in  it, 
while  powers  and  opportunities  for  its  advancement 
shall  be  continued  to  us.  There  is  not  a  single  view 
of  it  which  we  can  bring  forward  to  excuse  our  apathy. 
When  called  upon  to  give  a  portion  of  this  world's 
goods  to  relieve  the  poor,  we  may  sometimes  feel  that 
the  store  we  possess  is  in  danger  of  too  great  diminu- 
tion ;  when  we  impart  to  others  the  knowledge  of  art 
or  of  science  that  distinguishes  us,  it  may  seem  that  by 
making  them  as  wise  as  ourselves,  we  lessen  our  own 
comparative  elevation.  But  to  impart  sjijuitual  treas- 
ures, however  freely  we  give  them  forth,  in  no  degree 
diminishes  our  own  wealth ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  thus 
augmented ;  our  own  place  in  the  Kingdom  of  heaven 
will  not  be  made  lower,  though  an  entrance  be  abun- 
dantly ministered  unto  others.  While,  therefore,  men 
are  so  ready  to  send  the  temporal  comforts  of  food 
and  clothing  to  the  hungry  and  destitute,  and  while 


A   PLEA    FOR   jVnSSIONS.  119 

they  esteem  it  a  grand  and  honorable  nndertaking  to 
spread  abroad  the  lights  of  human  science,  and  to 
extend  the  improvements  of  civilized  society, — ^why 
should  so  little  interest,  in  comparison,  be  felt  in 
communicating  spiritual  knowledge  and  consolations  ? 
How  are  we  to  account  for  this  ?  Not  because  the 
society  in  which  we  dwell  is  destitute  of  the  spirit  of 
benevolence.  By  no  means ;  such  an  accusation  would 
be  in  the  highest  degree  unjust.  The  spuit  of  benev- 
olence exists,  with  few  exceptions,  in  the  bosoms  of  all 
men.  To  excite  and  put  it  into  action,  you  need  only 
present  to  theii'  sympathies  some  case  of  want  or  suf- 
fering which  they  can  comprehend  and  realize.  Now 
all  may  imagine  what  it  is  to  suffer  hunger  and  cold, 
and  to  endure  unrelieved  and  unmitigated  poverty, — 
the  more  intelligent  will  easily  comprehend  and  justly 
estimate  the  benefits  which  knowledge  and  the  arts 
of  civilized  life  have  conferred  upon  themselves  and 
upon  the  community  in  which  they  dwell.  These 
things  they  understand  and  can  reahze,  and  therefore 
upon  such  subjects  their  sympathies  are  easily  awak- 
ened ;  and  we  may  be  assured,  that  when  once  men 
can  fully  appreciate  the  advantages  of  the  Gospel  of 
Christ  to  themselves  ;  when  once  they  can  say,  that  to 
them  it  is  more  precious  than  gold  and  rubies,  and 
that  all  human  science  and  art  are  vain  and  worthless 
in  comparison  with  it ;  when  once  they  can  feel  that 
it  has  been  the  means  of  rescuing  them  from  the  power 
of  that  dreadful  disease  which  was  palsying  vii'tuous 
effort,  and  poisoning  present  enjoyment,  and  banishing 


120  A   PLEA   FOR   UnSSIONS. 

the  hope  of  life  immortal ;  when  and  wheresoever  all 
this  is  felt  and  appreciated,  there  will  be  no  difficulty 
in  rousing  and  keeping  in  vigorous  activity  Missionary 
benevolence.  Wherever,  on  the  contrary,  this  benev- 
olence is  not  felt  and  exhibited,  it  is  because  the  power 
of  true  religion  is  not  ex]3erieuced. 

Any  system  of  professed  Christianity  which  main- 
tains light  opinions  of  human  depravity,  and  softened 
explanations  of  the  threatenings  of  eternal  damnation, 
cannot  be  expected  to  take  a  deep  interest  in  the 
sjDiritual  condition  of  the  human  race.  When  we 
notice  what  we  esteem  a  slight  disease,  we  are  not 
particularly  anxious  about  the  means  of  cure, — our 
remedies  are  mild  and  are  tardily  administered,  and 
we  are  willing  to  trust  to  the  healing  power  of  nature. 
Not  so  when  we  observe  the  symptoms  of  one  of  those 
di'eadful  maladies  which  quickly  send  men  to  destruc- 
tion; then  we  are  alarmed  and  in  earnest,  and  ply 
vigorously  and  without  cessation,  every  method  of 
arresting  it,  which  science  and  experience  can  devise. 
Similar  to  this  must  be  the  feeling  of  those  who  are 
truly  engaged  in  the  IVIissionary  cause.  Those  who 
entertain  different  opinions  of  the  extent  of  human 
depravity  and  its  consequences,  may  talk  about  Mis- 
sions, and  attem|)t  to  excite  among  themselves  some 
interest  in  their  favor ;  but  this  is  in  self-defence,  and 
because  they  are  roused  by  the  reproach  of  lukewarm- 
ness.  They  can  have  no  heartfelt  devotion  to  this 
species  of  Christian  benevolence.  It  is  not  simply 
because  Christianity  will  improve  the  temporal  con- 


A   PLEA   FOR    MISSIONS.  121 

dition  of  those  to  wliom  it  is  communicated ;  saving 
the  idolater  from  moral  degradation,  and  from  expen- 
sive offerino^s  and  sacrifices  of  human  blood ;  restorins^ 
woman  to  her  just  privileges,  her  mild  control,  and 
purifying  influences,  and  thus  bringing  in  its  train  all 
the  benefits  of  civilized  life ;  it  is  not  on  these  accounts 
alone  that  we  are  to  promote  the  dissemination  of  our 
religion.  Great,  unquestionably,  as  are  the  moral  and 
temi)oral  advantages  which  accrue  to  those  who  are 
the  subjects  of  missionary  labors,  this  must  not  be  our 
sole  or  our  principal  reason  for  promoting  them. 
Would  we  aid  Missions  upon  proper  and  efficient 
principles,  we  must  aid  them  because  they  are  means 
appointed  by  God  for  taking  perishing  sinners  from  a 
state  of  condemnation ;  for  introducing  the  lost  sons 
of  Adam  into  the  flock  and  fold  of  Christ ;  for  extend- 
ing the  triumphs  of  the  Redeemer  over  sin,  Satan,  and 
death ;  and  for  peopling  the  mansions  of  the  blessed 
with  pure  and  rejoicing  spirits,  who  might  otherwise 
have  been  the  hateful  and  blaspheming  subjects  of 
eternal  condemnation  and  misery.  These  are  the  sol- 
emn and  overwhelming  considerations  which  present 
the  cause  of  JVIissions  in  all  its  extended  importance, 
which  connect  it  with  the  awful  sublimities  of  a  future 
world,  and  which,  therefore,  are  best  calculated  to 
rouse  the  attention  of  beings  acting  on  their  respon- 
sibility as  immortal.  Those  who  have  not  these 
feelings  and  views  can  never  be  engaged  in  it,  as  they 
should  be,  heart,  mind,  soul,  and  strength.  When 
mere  temporal  advantages  are  to  be  communicated  to 


122  A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIONS. 

our  fellow-creatures,  and  moral  renovation  for  the 
purpose  of  iuducmg  tliem  to  live  witli  greater  purity 
and  dignity  "  the  life  of  to-day, "  when  these  are  the 
only  motives  that  impel  us  to  the  Missionary  cause, 
it  will  ine\dtably  be  pursued  with  the  caution,  the 
delay,  the  controlled  feelings  and  views  of  a  worldly 
policy.  Let  me  know  what  opinions  any  set  of  men 
hold  in  regard  to  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and  I  can  almost  predict  how 
high  the  thermometer  of  their  religious  benevolence 
will  rise  when  a^oplied  to  the  atmosphere  which  envel- 
opes the  sin-darkened  nations.  With  the  true  and 
faithful  Missionary,  the  Gospel  does  not  seize  hold  upon 
his  affections,  arm  his  resolutions,  sustain  his  self-denial, 
and  animate  his  labors,  as  the  Gosj)el  of  Christ  the 
moral  teacher,  Christ  the  author  of  immortality,  Christ 
the  renovator  of  religion :  No — it  is  Christ  crucified, 
Christ  the  atonement  for  his  sins,  Christ  the  only  and 
the  all-sufiicieut  means  of  his  restoration  to  the  favor 
of  God  and  the  hope  of  futm'e  blessedness."^  This 
is  the  saying  which  is  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  and 
which  he  earnestly  desii^es  may  be  accepted  of  all. 
This  is  the  Gospel  which  he  readily  perceives  was  not 
communicated  for  himself  alone,  but  for  every  creature 
born  in  the  same  state  of  condemnation  with  himself 
And  the  gratitude  which  he  feels  for  his  own  deliver- 
ance, his  present  consolations  and  future  hopes,  while 
it  fills  his  mouth  with  praises  to  God  his  Saviour, 
engages  his  hands  and  his  heart  to  promote  the  cause 

*  See  Note  A. 


A  PLEA  FOR  ivnssioNS.  123 

which  he  knows  to  be  dearest  to  that  Saviour,  for 
which  He  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  even 
the  salvation  of  the  world. 

In  former  years,  the  cause  of  Missions  was  little 
understood,  and,  therefore,  was  much  misrepresented 
and  violently  assailed.  But  now  there  are  few  who 
are  avowedly  opposed  to  it.  Every  Christian  must 
and  will  acknowledge  that  the  ignorant  and  destitute 
of  our  own  shores,  have  great  and  unalienable  claims 
upon  our  charitable  sympathies  and  assistance,  and 
there  are  very  few  who  entirely  reject  and  discoun- 
tenance the  petitions  of  the  poor  heathen  of  foreign 
lands.  So  much  has  been  said  and  written  to  encour- 
age this  holy  warfare,  such  proofs  of  its  justice  and 
expediency  have  been  advanced,  and  so  much  ground 
has  actually  been  gained  in  it,  that  pious  and  thinking 
men  can  be  indifferent  no  longer.  The  animating 
exhortations  of  such  men  as  the  ardent  Melville 
Home,  and  the  eloquent  and  benevolent  Chalmers, 
the  self-denying  labors  of  the  pious  Schwartz,  the 
zealous  Buchanan,  the  judicious  Middleton,  the  de- 
voted and  accomplished  Martyn,  the  almost  perfect 
Heber ;  *  and,  m  our  own  country,  the  cogent  appeals 
and  powerful  examples  of  those  of  other  persuasions, 
in  the  pulpit  and  on  Missionary  ground,  sanctified  and 
rendered  efficient  by  the  Spiiit  of  God,  have  awakened 
the  slumbering  spu-it  of  Christendom,  and  disturbed 
the  long  and  disgraceful  apathy  of  our  own  Church. 
But  much,  very  much,  remains  to  be  accomplished. 

*  See  Note  B. 


124  A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIOlSrS. 

It  is  one  tiling  to  acknowledge  tlie  justice  and  obliga- 
tion of  Missionary  claims;  a  far  different  one  to  put 
fortli  our  energies  to  advance  them.  This  is  what 
Christians  of  no  place  and  of  no  denomination  have  as 
yet  done  to  the  extent  which  the  cause  deserves  and 
demands ;  and  certainly  we  must  be  content  to  endure 
the  reproach  and  mortification  of  being  among  the  last 
to  enroll  ourselves  under  the  banners  of  this  holy  war- 
fare. My  observation  has  more  especial  reference  to 
the  case  of  Foreign  Missions.  To  aid  our  brethren  at 
home  within  the  boundaries  of  our  own  country,  even 
Christians  of  moderate  zeal  and  benevolence  have 
acknowledged  to  be  a  duty ;  and  a  few  flocks  have 
been  collected,  and  a  few  patches  from  the  vast  do- 
mains of  our  western  country,  have  been  reclaimed 
and  cultivated  for  their  sustenance.  But  what  have 
we  done  abroad  ?  But  little,  and  that  little  with  still 
less  effect. 

The  idea  of  sending  the  Gospel  to  the  remote  ends 
of  the  earth,  has  been  ridiculed  by  some  as  a  quixotic 
enterprise ;  has  been  discountenanced  by  some  as 
impracticable ;  and  has  been  discouraged  by  others  as 
interfering  with  more  urgent  claims  nearer  at  home. 
Others  again  object,  because  the  beneficial  effects  of 
Missions  have  not,  in  then*  estimation,  been  commen- 
surate with  the  exertion  and  expense  that  have 
attended  producing  them.  Eeasoning  from  the  many 
disappointments  that  these  enterprises  have  met  with, 
and  from  the  large  sums  of  money  expended  in  them, 
they  delare  that  the  time  has  not  yet  arrived,  that  we 


A   PLEA    FOR   MISSIONS.  125 

must  wait  till  tlie  state  of  lieatlien  nations  is  rendered 
more  propitious  to  sucli  attempts  by  political  or  other 
changes,  and  that  while  comparatively  so  little  is  to 
be  accomplished  abroad,  and  so  much  remains  to  be 
effected  at  home,  our  donations  and  exertions  should 
flow  in  this  latter  channel  alone.  These  considerations 
are  not  without  weight;  at  any  rate,  some  of  them 
proceed  from  those  whose  sincere  attachment  to  the 
Kingdom  of  Christ,  and  whose  earnest  desire  to  see  its 
advancement,  we  cannot  for  a  moment  question.  But 
surely  the  claims  upon  us  at  home,  are  not  a  sufficient 
apology  for  utterly  rejecting  those  who  call  to  us  for 
salvation  from  afar.  "  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters, 
give  a  portion  to  seven,  and  also  to  eight."  I  doubt 
not,  and  no  Christian  can  doubt,  that  our  first  and 
most  imj)erious  duty  is  at  home.  We  are  to  do  good 
unto  all  men,  but  especially  unto  them  that  are  of  the 
household  of  faith.  He  that  should  cast  his  whole 
bread  upon  the  universal  ocean  of  Christian  benevo- 
lence, while  his  own  family  are  hungry  for  the  want 
of  it,  would  literally  be  worse  than  an  infidel ;  he  that 
should  portion  oft'  strangers  and  the  heathen,  and 
leave  his  own  relatives  to  poverty  and  dej)endeuce, 
would  exhibit  himself  as  destitute  of  the  true  princi- 
ples of  benevolence,  as  of  the  feelings  of  aftection. 
We  could  never  approve  that  ostentatious  spirit  which 
scatters  abroad,  and  spares  and  grudges  at  home; 
which  spends  itself  in  looking  at  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
while  the  eye  passes  carelessly  over  the  intermediate 
space.     Our  holy  religion  unquestionably  teaches  that 


126  A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIOlSrS. 

charity  begins  at  liome ;  but  witb  equal  emphasis,  it 
declares  that  it  does  not  terminate  there.  We  are 
each  one  of  us  bound  to  be  as  extensively  useful  as 
possible  :  we  must  not  exclusively  confine  ourselves  to 
our  ov/n  immediate  families,  nor  even  to  the  limits  of 
our  own  nation ;  we  must  ever  be  alive  to  the  consid- 
eration how  we  can  do  good  according  to  our  abilities 
and  opportunities  to  the  great  family  of  man.  By 
every  obligation  of  duty,  by  every  motive  of  interest, 
this  spirit  of  enlarged  benevolence  is  recommended  to 
us.  Let  us  for  a  moment  look  at  the  subject  in  this 
light. 

The  more  closely  we  examine  the  condition  of  man 
in  society,  the  more  convinced  shall  we  be  of  the 
extent  of  our  mutual  connections  and  dependencies. 
So  wisely  is  the  order  of  God's  Providence  arranged, 
so  closely  has  he  connected  together  the  human  family, 
that  the  relations  of  man  with  man  are  every  day 
growing  still  more  extensive.  The  most  distant  parts 
of  the  earth  are  now  united  by  the  bonds  of  mercan- 
tile interest,  and  the  frequency  of  social  intercourse: 
every  part  is  constantly  becoming  more  essential  to 
the  comfort  and  well-being  of  every  other  part.  We 
cannot  then  be  indifferent  to  what  relates  to  the  im- 
provement of  any  portion  of  the  human  race.  But  I 
would  ask,  is  this  enlarged  obligation  sufficiently 
considered  or  acted  upon  by  men  in  general,  and 
especially  by  Christian  men  ?  Their  responsibilities 
to  the  family  that  depends  upon  them,  and  to  the 
friends  of  their  immediate  connection  they  will  readily 


A   PLEA   FOK   MISSIONS.  127 

acknowledge,  and  for  the  most  part,  punctually  dis- 
charge. But  here  they  rest.  They  view  themselves 
as  part  of  a  narrow  circle,  and  not  of  a  grand  whole. 
They  will  move  perhaps  evenly  and  regularly  in  their 
own  little  orbit,  l^ut  forget  that  this  orbit,  with  all 
that  it  contains,  must  take  its  course  around  a  larger 
one,  and  this  again  around  another,  till  we  can  no 
longer  trace  the  majestic  and  complicated  system.  It 
is  not  intended,  as  before  stated,  to  advocate  the  prin- 
ciple that  a  man's  contributions  and  exertions  are  to 
be  devoted  with  equal  energy  and  continuousness  to 
objects  remote  as  well  as  near.  By  no  means.  As  he 
approaches  the  centre  of  his  circle,  the  more  power- 
fully must  his  rays  be  seen  and  his  warmth  be  felt. 
But  there  is  no  point  at  which  their  influence  must 
be  checked  and  drawn  in  by  himself  It  is  only  when 
other  beings  are  beyond  his  reach,  that  his  duty 
ceases ;  then,  indeed,  the  hght  of  the  benevolent  man, 
like  that  of  one  of  the  lesser  stars,  becomes  feeble  and 
undistinguishable,  but  even  then  it  is  not  without  its 
effect,  for  it  aids  to  form  that  luminous  galaxy  which 
encircles  the  moral  firmament.  Now  if  the  principle 
thus  briefly  illustrated  be  a  correct  one;  if  it  be 
founded  in  the  nature  of  man,  be  enforced  by  his 
condition  in  society,  and  be  rendered  obligatory  by 
the  inferred  and  the  revealed  will  of  God,  at  what 
point  on  the  surface  of  this  globe  will  it  authorize  us 
to  suspend  our  exertions  and  contributions  for  impart- 
ing to  our  fellow-men  that  which  we  esteem  our  best 
treasure  ?     What  remote  island,  what  secluded  valley, 


128  A   PLEA   FOE   ]VnSSIONS. 

what  alpine  region,  wliere  sinful  and  accountable  man 
inhabits,  should  we  consider  as  placed  beyond  our 
sympathies  ?  None.  We  may  not  think  as  often,  or 
give  as  much  for  them  as  for  our  own  household  of 
faith,  but  we  must  sometimes  think  and  act,  and 
something  we  must  give. 

Domestic  and  Foreign  Missions,  though  they  may 
be  distinct  in  name,  though  their  transactions  may  be 
under  the  control  of  different  bodies  of  men  (and  per- 
haps for  their  mutual  benefit  such  a  division  of  labors 
may  be  exjDedient),  yet  the  cause  itself  is  one  and  indi- 
visible. That  which  makes  them  Foreign  and  Domes- 
tic, is  the  difference  of  our  civil  relations.  But  what 
has  the  Gospel  of  Christ  to  do  with  boundaries  of 
kingdoms,  or  the  forms  of  government,  or  differences 
of  language,  or  varieties  of  feature  and  complexion  ? 
The  enlarged  and  generous  spirit  of  Christian  love 
overleaps  these  boundaries.  God,  who  hath  made  of 
one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  all  the 
face  of  the  earth,  will  the  more  approve  our  benevo- 
lence the  more  expansive  it  becomes,  because  it  then  in 
some  degree  resembles  his  own  universal  goodness. 
Let  not  any  one  imagine  that  he  is  the  true  and  en- 
lightened friend  of  Domestic  Missions,  while  his  affec- 
tions are  cold  to  those  which  have  our  distant  brethren 
of  the  human  family  for  their  object.  In  our  thoughts, 
our  prayers,  and  our  exertions,  they  are  to  be  regarded 
as  the  offspring  of  the  same  principle ;  just  as  that  is 
the  same  charity  which  gives  to  the  destitute  family 
that  lives  withm  sight  of  our  own  habitation,  and  to 


A   PLEA   FOR   TVnSSIONS.  129 

the  unfortunate  being  plundered  and  wounded,  and 
left  for  dead  on  the  road  side,  whom  we  casually  en- 
counter while  on  a  distant  journey.  We  could  not 
innocently  pass  by  the  latter  with  neglect,  for  he  also 
is  our  neighbor  in  the  view  of  Christian  duty. 

But  although  the  general  j)rinciple  may  be  allowed, 
there  are  some  who  may  be  disposed  to  deny  its  imme- 
diate apj)lication  to  the  heathen  world,  and  to  urge  as 
a  reason  for  longer  delay  the  little  that  has  been  effected 
there,  and  the  discouraging  prospects  it  even  now  pre- 
sents to  our  \aew.  Of  those  who  assert  this  objection, 
and  thus  reason  themselves  into  a  state  of  indifference, 
it  may  be  demanded,  is  not  the  precept,  "  Go  preach 
the  Gospel  to  every  creature,"  plain,  dii*ect,  and  un- 
trammelled with  restrictions  or  limitations  ?  Are  we 
to  wait  for  another  command  as  the  signal  to  go  forth  ? 
Have  we  any  right  to  expect  another  ?  Did  the  Apos- 
tles and  Missionaries  of  the  Church  in  its  infant  a2:e 
remain  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  or  even  within 
the  confines  of  Judea  ?  No.  When  the  Church  was 
once  established,  and  its  triple  order  arranged  and  or- 
ganized by  Di\dne  suggestion,  it  became  the  settled 
plan  and  determination  of  its  counsels  to  overspread 
the  earth  with  the  doctrine  of  the  cross.  The  isles  of 
Greece,  the  shores  of  Asia,  refined  Atheu-s,  imperial 
Rome,  uncivilized  Britain,  remotest  India,  these  were 
the  fields  of  Missionary  labor  ere  a  century  had  elapsed 
from  the  going  forth  of  the  great  commandment — 
preach  the  Gospel.  Had  Christians  in  after  ages  pos- 
sessed but  half  the  portions  of  this  ApostoHc  zeal  which 
9 


130  A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIOlSrS. 

distinguislied  tlie  Churcli  wliile  iii  its  age  of  infancy, 
in  eigliteen  centuries  there  would  not  have  been  a  place 
on  the  whole  earth  ignorant  of  the  name  of  Christ. 

But  the  plea  and  excuse  of  the  spiritual  destitution 
of  our  brethren  at  home  returns  upon  us.  Let  us  look 
again  at  the  conduct  of  the  Apostles  in  this  respect. 
They  unquestionably  went  frequently  and  far  on 
Foreign  Mssions.  Will  it  be  said  that  the  corrupt 
and  hardened  Scribes  and  Pharisees  of  Jerusalem,  the 
ignorant  and  yoke-bound  slaves  of  their  burdensome 
rites  and  foolish  traditions  in  the  regions  round  about 
(which  was  the  field  of  Domestic  Missions  to  the  Apos- 
tles), will  it  be  said  that  this  field  did  not  need  their 
attention  and  cultivation  as  much  as  almost  any  portion 
of  any  nation  of  Christendom  needs  the  labors  of 
Christians  of  the  present  day  ?  And  when  the  Apostles 
knew  that  Jerusalem  was  to  be  trodden  down  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  its  wretched  inhabitants  destroyed  or 
scattered  abroad,  might  they  not  have  found  in  the 
prospect  of  these  dreadful  visitations  a  j^owerful  excuse 
for  confining  their  lal^ors  to  their  own  brethren  ?  Yet 
they  were  not  restricted  by  these  views.  They  went 
forth, — quickened  by  zeal  for  Christ  and  love  for  the 
souls  of  men ; — ^they  penetrated  even  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  Or  will  it  be  argued  that  to  them  obstacles 
were  less  and  encouragements  greater  than  to  us  ?  Let 
us  make  the  comparison.  The  inveterate  prejudice, 
the  narrow  bigotry  or  high  contempt  of  Mussulmen, — 
are  these  hateful  qualities  more  prominent  in  them 
than  they  were  in  Pharisaical  Jews  of  ancient  tunes  ? 


A   PLEA   FOR   mSSIONS.  131 

The  mild  Hiucloos  are  intelligent,  are  devoted  to  their 
superstition,  wMcli  is  supported  by  antiquity,  and  de- 
fended by  learning  and  taste  ;  but  are  they  by  these 
cu'cumstances  placed  farther  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
Gospel  than  the  polished  and  witty  Greeks,  or  the 
dignified  and  philosophical  Romans  ?  The  Indians  of 
Western  America  and  the  isles  of  the  Pacific  are  igno- 
rant and  degraded ;  the  savage  hordes  of  Africa  are 
remote  and  intractable ;  but  are  they  less  accessible 
or  more  barbarous  than  the  furious  Gauls,  or  naked 
Britons,  or  inhospitable  Scythians  ?  Or  to  coast  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  in  frail  barks  without 
compass  or  chart ;  was  this  less  hazardous,  or  an  enter 
prise  of  less  extent,  than  now  to  sail  in  our  stately  and 
well  ordered  ships,  guided  by  experienced  skill  and 
the  certainties  of  science  ?  No,  my  brethren.  There 
is  no  obstacle  to  missionary  enterprise  in  the  present 
day,  which  was  not  equally  formidable  to  the  Apostles 
and  early  Missionaries.  There  was  no  encouragement 
given  to  them  which  we  do  not  enjoy  in  an  equal 
degree.  And  I  will  venture  to  add,  we  ha\'e  equal 
advantages  for  bringing  converts  to  the  faith  of  Christ, 
had  we  but  their  zeal  and  devotion.  They  indeed 
wrought  miracles,  they  spake  with  foreign  tongues, 
they  were  inspired  teachers  ;  but  we  have  the  arts  of 
civilization,  which  arouse  the  attention  and  command 
the  respect  of  the  ignorant  Heathen,  like  miracles  ;  we 
have  time  and  facilities  to  learn  foreign  languages 
which  were  denied  to  the  Apostles  ;  and  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel,  if  it  be  not  from  insj)ired  lips,  yet  if 


1B2  A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIOlSrS. 

these  lips  faithfully  declare  the  truths  of  inspiration, 
the  Spirit  of  God  will  give  them  entrance  into  the 
heart.  Now,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  the  Gospel 
grows  not  from  the  planting  of  Paul,  or  the  watering 
of  Apollos,  but  because  God  giveth  the  increase  * 

But  why  need  I  argue  these  points  ?     Argument 
was  the  duty  of  twenty  years   ago ;   then  was   the 
season  of  doubt  and  irresolution  with  the  timid  ;  with 
the  bold,  merely  the  period  of  anticijDation.     At  the 
present  day,  instead  of  arguing  on  general  principles, 
we  can  present  the  simple  and  obvious  demonstration. 
We  have  begun  to  find  that  bread  which  for  so  many 
years,  and  with  apparently  so  little  effect,  hath  been 
cast  upon  the  waters.     Look  at  what  has  been  accom- 
plished by  the  Missionaries  of  the  South  Sea  Islands. 
"  Never,"  as  competent  and  trustworthy  witnesses  have 
declared,  "never  did  the  Gospel  obtain  a  more  com- 
plete and  glorious  triumph  over  ignorance  and  sensu- 
ality and  superstition  since  the  world  began.     Behold 
again  in  the  East  the  seed  which  was  placed  but  a  few 
years  since  in.  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  which  Middleton 
cherished  and  Heber  watered;  and  how  it  flourishes 
and  puts  forth  its  leaves,  and  yields  its  fruits,  and  how 
the  nations  begin  to  resort  unto  it  for  healing,  and 
the  ancient  Churches  to  revive  beneath  its  sheltering 
branches.     Look  at  this,  and  be  no  longer  faithless,  but 
believing.     But  when  we  would  point  to  what  Mission- 
ary labor  has  actually  accomplished,  whose  thoughts 
do  not  at  once  turn  to  trace  the  unostentatious  but 

*  See  Note  0. 


A    PLEA    FOR   MISSIONS.  133 

decided  progress  of  tliat  band  of  Apostolic  men,  the 
Mora\dan  brothers  ?  We  look  at  tbem  and  the  history 
of  their  labors  and  successes  with  unbounded  respect 
and  admiration.  Hence  we  may  derive  courage  the 
most  abundant.  Considering  the  difficulties  that  the 
Mission  cause  has  had  to  contend  with,  the  lukewarm- 
ness  of  its  friends,  the  opposition  of  its  enemies,  the 
absence  of  concert  in  its  j)lans,  the  inexperience  of  its 
directors,  the  want  of  adequate  preparation  in  its  mes- 
sengers, we  cannot  reasonably  indulge  disaj)pointment 
in  regard  to  its  desired  effects ;  we  may  rather  wonder 
that  these  effects  are  made  prominent  so  early.  Under 
the  influence  of  reflections  made  upon  the  present  state 
of  Missions,  to  me  it  now  appears  that  there  is  no  place 
on  this  earth  so  remote,  no  people  so  barbarous,  no 
superstition  so  rooted  in  the  affections  and  prejudices 
of  those  who  practise  it,  that  may  not  at  this  very 
day,  by  the  very  fii'st  ship  that  can  be  j)repared,  be 
made  the  object  of  a  successful  Missionary  assault 
Had  we  the  means  and  the  instruments,  the  time  is 
always  ready.  It  is  to  be  wanting  both  in  faith  and 
courage  to  wait  for  political  changes  or  moral  revolu- 
tions. The  Gospel  must  make  its  own  way,  and  it  is 
able  to  do  so.  If  the  true  priests  and  Levites  will  only 
carry  the  Ark  of  the  living  God  into  the  enemy's  land, 
they  need  not  fear  for  its  safety  ;  no  sacrilegious  hand 
will  be  permitted  to  take  hold  of  it  for  its  destruction, 
and  Dagon  shall  fall  prostrate  before  it. 

But  the  spirit  of  enterprise  once  awakened  by  these 
views,  we  acknowledge   that  its  operations  must  be 


134  A   PLEA   FOE   MISSIONS. 

directed  witli  the  utmost  circumspection.  We  sliould 
not  hesitate  because  the  field  is  remote,  the  enterprise 
hazardous,  the  pros23ect  of  success  distant ;  but  we  may 
require  that  the  plan  be  prepared  by  the  best  ex]3e- 
rience,  and  the  fullest  knowledge  of  circumstances,  and 
that  ample  means  be  collected  to  put  it  into  thorough 
execution.  To  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  and  to  all 
devout  Christians  in  their  respective  spheres  of  action, 
it  belongs  to  excite  and  to  press  forward  the  Mission- 
ary spirit,  and  to  pour  into  the  Missionary  treasury  of 
the  Lord,  supplies  so  ample  that  the  drafts  upon  it 
shall  never  fail.  Upon  the  Boards  and  Directors  of 
Missionary  Societies,  it  is  incumbent  to  look  with  the 
eye  of  enlightened  philosophy,  as  well  as  Christian 
compassion,  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth,  and 
see  to  Avhat  points  their  eiforts  can  be  directed  with 
the  best  prospect  of  success,  and  what  measures  are 
best  calculated  to  insure  this  success.  We  must  ac- 
knowledge that  most  of  the  disappointments  that  have 
attended  Missionary  efforts,  and  most  of  the  fruitless 
exertions  that  are  now  adduced  as  an  argument  against 
them,  have  proceeded  from  want  of  sufficient  prudence 
and  knowledge  in  their  management.  Zeal  without 
knowledge  will  carry  us  astray  ;  the  courage  of  entei' 
prise  without  prudence  to  direct  it,  cannot  be  expected 
to  produce  successful  results.  Another  consideration 
is  also  of  importance.  While  our  means  and  resources 
are  limited,  they  should  not  be  directed  to  too  many 
objects.  Collect  the  little  tributary  streams  into  one 
channel,  and  their  force  will  bear  down  mighty  obsta- 


A   PLEA   FOR   MISSIONS.  135 

cles ;  tliey  will  reacli  tlieir  way  to  lands  which  they 
can  beautify  and  enrich  ;  but  divide  them  minutely, 
and  dispense  them  widely  upon  the  arid  sands  of  the 
desert,  and  they  will  be  dried  up,  or  sink  away,  and 
leave  no  green  traces  of  their  progress.* 

When  we  direct  our  eyes  over  the  whole  surface 
of  the  globe,  in  benevolent  inquiry  for  the  field  which 
appropriately  belongs  to  us  to  cultivate,  which  our 
past  neglect,  our  present  duty,  our  future  interests, 
unitedly  mark  out  to  us  as  our  own,  shall  we  not  say 
that  it  is  Africa,  injured,  oppressed,  degraded  Africa  ? 
injured,  we  are  willing  to  believe,  through  the  sin  of 
ignorance  in  our  forefathers;  oj)]3ressed,  that  the 
labors  and  sacrifices  of  her  children  might  minister  to 
our  comforts  and  luxuries ;  degraded,  by  the  yoke  of 
an  unjust  and  cruel  bondage,  imposed  by  those  who 
to  us  were  benefactors  and  parents.  Is  it  not  our 
solemn  duty  to  do  away,  as  far  as  possible,  the  effects 
of  their  injustice ;  to  rej)air  the  moral  evils  which 
they  have  caused  ?  And  in  what  better  manner  can 
this  be  done,  than  by  giving  to  Africans  the  blessings 
of  Christianity,  and  preparing  for  them  in  their  own 
land  "  cities  of  refuge  ? "  Nay,  I  would  demand  in 
what  other  method  can  it  be  done?  I  can  see  no 
other,  and  imagine  no  other.  But  let  us  with  strong 
and  united  purpose,  engage  ourselves  in  this  enter- 
prise, and  the  good  we  may  accomplish,  the  evil  we 
may  avert,  is  incalculable.  As  regards  other  Mission- 
ary attempts,  we  are  encouraged  to  look  for  a  reward 

*  See  Note  D. 


136  A   PLEA   FOE   MISSIONS. 

altliougli  it  may  be  distant;  after  many  days  tliou 
shalt  find  the  bread  that  thou  hast  cast  upon  the 
waters.  But  here  another,  and  a  most  solemn  and 
interesting  motive  is  added :  "  Give  a  portion  to  seven, 
and  also  to  eight,  for  thou  knowest  not  what  evil  shall 
be  in  the  earth."  The  danger  that  imj)ends  over  us  as 
a  nation,  from  the  increase  of  our  colonial  and  slave 
population,  we  cannot  define  or  imagine.  But  that 
by  a  continuation  of  our  infatuated  blindness  and 
criminal  neglect,  it  may  be  awfully  great,  no  thinking 
man  can  doubt.  To  us  who  are  happily  exemj)t  from 
the  curse  of  Slavery,  this  danger  is  not  so  immediate ; 
but  can  we  be  indifferent  to  it  ?  By  no  means.  The 
cause  is  a  common  one.  The  welfare  of  the  members 
of  one  family,  who  should  be  united  in  bonds  of  the 
closest  aftection,  as  they  are  by  the  ties  of  interest,  is 
involved  in  it.  I  am  troubled  and  grieved  when  I 
hear  upon  this  subject  the  interests  of  the  South,  and 
the  interests  of  the  North  conflicting,  and  the  jealou- 
sies of  one  met  by  the  reproaches  of  the  other.  It  is 
not  the  fault  of  our  Southern  brethren  that  has 
entailed  this  exdl  upon  them :  it  is  not  by  virtue  and 
prudence  alone,  that  we  have  escaped  from  it.  Let 
us  remember  this.  Our  exemption  arises  from  cir- 
cumstances that  existed  long  before  there  was  any 
distinction  of  principle  upon  this  point;  the  nature 
of  our  climate,  and  the  character  of  our  early  popu- 
lation. To  triumph  in  our  freedom,  as  though  it 
were  of  our  own  purchasing,  is  folly  and  ingratitude ; 
to  hold  it  up  as  a  reproach  to  our  brethren  is  base 


A   PLEA   FOE   MISSIONS.  137 

cruelty  and  injustice.  As  loving  brethren,  as  faithful 
citizens,  as  true  and  benevolent  Christians,  we  should 
unite,  heart  and  hand,  wealth  and  wisdom,  enterprise 
and  prayer,  to  avert  the  evils,  to  redress  the  injuries, 
to  remove  the  disgrace  consequent  upon  the  intro- 
duction of  Slavery  into  this  western  world.  To  talk 
of  any  general  or  immediate  emancipation  to  the 
injured  sons  of  Africa,  except  the  freedom  which 
Christ  can  give,  is  to  talk  language,  the  origin  of 
which  is  ignorance,  the  consequences  of  which  are 
cruel  suffering  to  our  brethren  and  friends.  The  free- 
dom of  Christ,  then,  let  us  proclaim  to  Africa,  and  let 
it  be  our  determination  that  her  sons  shall  enjoy  it. 
And  let  her  sons  too  be  its  heralds.  Africa  must 
be  civilized  and  Christianized  by  Africans ;  but  in 
America  must  the  work  be  prej^ared.  Here  must 
Missionaries  be  selected,  and  instructed,  and  commis- 
sioned. Why  should  we  not  have  our  School  of 
Missions  for  this  express  purj^ose,  and  why  should 
it  not  be  commenced  forthwith  ?  For  such  an  enter- 
prise, so  fraught  with  advantages,  we  have  only  to 
make  judicious  preparations,  and  to  bring  forward  our 
demands,  and  we  shall,  I  am  confident  we  shall  find 
a  general  response  of  sympathy  throughout  our  land, 
and  a  willing  and  abundant  contribution.'^'  But  I 
find  myself  an  insulated  individual,  encroaching  upon 
what  I  have  stated  to  be  the  aj^propriate  province 
for  the  exercise  of  the  united  wisdom  of  Missionary 
Boards  and  Directors.     I  say  not   the   field  I  have 

*  See  Note  E. 


138  A  PLEA  FOR  ]mission:s. 

spoken  of,  is  the  ouly  one.  Assuredly  not.  But  I 
present  it  now,  as  appearing  to  me  tlie  one  first  ru 
duty,  and  first  in  importance. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  having  demanded  your 
attention  longer,  I  fear,  than  I  have  rewarded  it,  I 
must  approach  the  conclusion  of  my  present  effort. 
Weak  though  it  be — far  inadequate  to  the  dignity 
and  importance  of  the  subject,  I  will  yet  pray  the 
Almighty  Spirit  to  give  it  His  blessing;  and  I  will, 
also,  venture  to  ask  for  it  your  prayers.  In  regard 
to  the  cause  itself,  I  have  no  doubt.  It  must  and  will 
succeed.  The  triumphs  of  the  cross  will  be  more 
frequent  and  more  universal,  from  this  time  forth, 
while  the  world  shall  endure.  "VVe,  indeed,  and  many 
of  our  posterity  may  first  disappear  from  the  earth, 
but  the  Bread  of  Life  shall  return  again  to  this  land 
from  which  it  has  been  sent  forth.  Our  children's 
childi'en  will  enjoy  the  Christian  triumphs,  and  par- 
take the  Gospel  peace  and  prosperity  we  may  now 
prepare  for  them.  The  earth  is  gradually  improving, 
its  deserts  are  reclaiming,  its  forests  are  levelling, 
green  fields  and  smiling  villages,  the  comforts  of 
plenty,  and  the  elegancies  of  art,  are  advancing.  In 
the  j)rogress  of  ages,  from  our  own  Atlantic  shores  to 
the  Pacific,  shall  be  one  extended  surface,  which  the 
industry  of  man  shall  cultivate  and  beautify,  and  his 
enterpi'ise  fill  with  level  roads  and  easy  waters  of 
communication.  The  mysterious  centre  of  Africa 
shall  be  known  and  visited  by  commercial  enterprise. 
The  jealous  gates  of  China  shall  be  thrown  widely 


A   PLEA   FOE   MISSIONS.  130 

open,  and  lier  wall  of  sej^aration  be  cast  down  to  tlie 
eartli.  The  wandering  tribes  of  Asia  sliall  rest,  and 
tents  and  tabernacles  be  changed  into  places  of  per- 
manent abode.  Not  an  island  in  the  universal  ocean 
sliall  be  unknown,  nor  where  man  can  inhabit,  shall 
it  be  unpeo^^led  or  uncivilized.  And  all  this  time, 
shall  the  Gospel  be  immovable  ?  shall  it  be  confined 
within  its  present  narrow  boundaries?  No,  my 
brethi'en — for  it  shall  be  the  chief  stimulus  to  all  this 
enterprise,  the  principal  cause  of  all  these  successful 
results.  When  our  remote  posterity  shall  see  the 
earth  tranquil  in  peace,  smiling  in  joy,  and  vocal  in 
praise  to  God,  they  shall  recur  with  wonder  to  the 
history  of  past  times,  when  wars  were  in  the  earth, 
when  heathen  superstitions  disgraced  it,  and  sacrifices 
of  blood  vexed  it,  and  sin  every  where  polluted  it ; 
and  in  deep-felt  gratitude  they  shall  say,  these  are 
the  blessed  effects  of  our  fathers'  labors,  and  of  those 
who  engaged  with  them  in  the  Missionary  cause. 
Blessed  be  their  name  and  theu*  memory !  And 
perhaps,  we  also,  to  whom  these  anticipations  seem 
now  extravagant,  may  be  permitted  to  look  down  and 
see  the  earth  imj)roving,  the  reign  of  peace  restored, 
and  the  garden  of  Eden  again  flourishing  in  delights. 
Hasten,  O  Lord,  the  time, — re^ave  thy  work  in  the 
midst  of  the  years,  in  the  midst  of  the  years  make 
known, — henceforth  let  thy  word  run  very  swiftly, — 
defer  not,  O  our  God,  until  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world  have  become  the  kino-doms  of  our  Lord  and 
of  his  Christ.     Amen". 


NOTES. 


The  observations  which  follow  might  have  been  placed  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pages  where  are  found  the  passages,  in  the  preceding  Sermon, 
which  they  are  designed  to  illustrate ;  but  it  was  thought  better  not  to 
interrupt  the  attention  of  the  reader,  and  therefore  they  are  here  collected 
together. 

NOTE  A,  P.  122. 

On  page  122,  it  is  stated,  that  tlie  peculiar  and  essential 
doctrine  of  the  Gospel,  Christ  cruciiied  as  the  atonement  for 
our  sins,  and  the  sole  Author  of  immortal  life,  is  the  one  which 
can  alone  sustain  the  Missionary,  and  give  success  to  his 
labors.  We  have  ample  proof  of  this  from  well  authenticated 
facts.  Who  have  been  truly  zealous  in  this  cause,  or  have 
actually  accomplished  any  thing  in  it,  except  those  who 
maintain  the  doctrines  of  grace  ?  As  to  the  influence  of 
these  doctrines,  look  at  the  following  facts,  taken  from  an 
Essay  by  one  of  the  most  remarkable  young  men  of  the 
present  age — too  early,  alas  !  removed  from  his  anticipated 
labors  among  the  heathen.  John  Urquhart,  like  Henry 
Kirke  White,  was  distinguished  for  early  and  powerful 
talents,  for  an  early  and  assiduous  use  of  them,  for  early 
and  devoted  piety,  for  an  early  and  much  lamented,  but  a 
blessed  death.  See  parts  of  pages  85  and  86,  in  the  first 
volume  of  the  interesting  Memoirs  of  John  Urquhart,  by 
William  Orme. 

"  To  come  then  to  the  facts.  Tlie  scene  of  the  experiment 
was  the  inhospitable  region  of  Greenland  ;  and  the  moral  and 
intellectual  condition  of  the  inhabitants  was  even  more  barren 
and  dreary  than  the  scenery  with  which  they  were  surround- 
ed. Here  the  only  plausible  system  of  instruction  seemed  to 
be  to  attempt  to  teach  the  savages  those  truths  which  are  of 
a  preliminary  nature.  Accordhigly,  the  Missionaries  set  to 
work  most  assiduously,  in  telling  the  Greenlanders  of  the 


NOTES.  141 

being  and  cliaracter  of  a  God,  and  of  the  requirements  of 
his  hiw.  However  plausible  this  mode  of  instruction  may 
appear,  it  was  patiently  continued  in  for  seven  years,  without 
producing  even  tlie  smallest  effect  on  those  hearts  whicli 
ignorance  and  stupidity  had  rendered  almost  inaccessible. 
The  first  conversion  (as  far  as  man  was  concerned)  may  be 
said  to  have  been  accidental.  Some  Southlanders  happened 
to  visit  the  brethren,  as  one  of  them  was  writing  a  translation 
of  the  Gospels.  They  were  curious  to  know  what  was  in  the 
book,  and  on  hearing  read  the  history  of  Christ's  agony  in 
the  garden,  one  of  the  savages  earnestly  exclaimed,  '  How 
was  that  ?     Tell  me  it  once  more  ;  for  I  would  fain  be  saved.' 

Some  time  after  this  remarkable  conversion,  the 

brethren  entirely  changed  tlieir  method  of  instruction.  '  They 
now  directed  the  attention  of  the  savages,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, to  Christ  Jesus,  to  his  incarnation,  to  his  life,  and  es- 
pecially to  his  sufferings.'  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  in  the  history  of  the  evangelization  of  Greenland.  Con- 
version folloAved  conversion,  till  the  Missionaries  could  num- 
ber hundreds  to  whom  the  message  of  God  had  come,  not  in 
word  only,  but  also  in  power." 

What  a  different  course  of  j)roceeding  is  this  from  that 
which  we  have  heard  is  attempting  in  Calcutta,  by  an  inter- 
esting native.  He  has  prepared  extracts  from  the  i^ew 
Testament,  which,  as  far  as  possible,  exclude  its  peculiar  and 
essential  doctrines,  and  represent,  as  the  teacliing  of  Jesus, 
simply  and  solely  the  moral  precepts  he  inculcated  ;  and  the 
admirers  of  this  benevolent  and  learned,  though  deeply  mis- 
taken Hindu,  anticipate  from  such  a  mangled  and  lifeless 
system,  conversions  to  the  faith  of  Christ.  When  this  system 
does  make  converts,  and  bring  a  benighted  people  from  dark- 
ness into  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  we 
may  begin  to  put  some  faitli  in  it.  But  it  is  impossible  ;  the 
preaching  of  Christ  crucified  is  the  only  preaching  that  ever 
did,  or  ever  will,  convert  the  heathen.  I  doubt  whether 
"  the  precepts  of  Jesus,"  alone,  would  ever  have  been  "  to 
the  Jews  a  stumbling  block,  to  the  Greeks  foolishness."  This 
is  not  the  doctrine  which  first  offended  prejudice  and  after- 


142  NOTES. 

wards  vanquished  it ;  tlius  proving  itself  "  tlie  power  of  God, 
and  tlie  wisdom  of  God." 

NOTE  B,  P.  123. 

On  page  123,  the  names  of  several  individuals  are  men- 
tioned, who  have  distinguished  themselves  in  promoting  the 
Missionary  cause.  Such  an  enumeration  in  a  discourse  for 
the  pulpit,  must  of  necessity  be  very  limited  and  incomplete. 
This  holy  cause  can  boast  of  many  advocates,  eminently  dis- 
tinguished for  talents,  as  well  as  piety  and  zeal ;  many  who 
yet  are  alive  and  laboring  to  serve  their  Master  in  this  way 
to  him  most  acceptable,  and  many  more  whose  memories  live 
and  flourish,  though  their  bodies  slumber  in  the  dust.  The 
Missionary  course  of  such  men  as  Martyn  and  Brainard,  has 
not  yet  terminated.  The  spirits  of  many  will  be  stirred,  and 
the  faith  of  many  be  strengthened  by  their  example,  and 
thus,  through  their  instrumentality,  will  the  Gospel  be 
preached  to  multitudes  of  the  heathen.  Their  lives,  which 
are  comjjiled  principally  from  their  own  journals,  are  replete 
with  interest  as  pieces  of  biography,  and  ai'e  admirably  cal- 
culated to  kindle  and  keep  alive  the  flame  of  private  devo- 
tion. They  ought  to  be,  and  will  be,  the  inseparable  com- 
panions of  every  Missionary. 

A  life  of  Bisliop  Heber,  prepared  in  the  same  manner 
and  with  equal  ability,  would  be  an  invalual)le  present  to 
the  Christian  world.  In  him  Ave  see  splendid  talents,  pro- 
found learning,  cultivated  taste,  poetic  imagination,  the  love- 
liness of  domestic  virtue,  saintly  piety,  and  Ajjostolic  zeal 
combining  together  to  form  a  character  "  almost  perfect." 
Why,  also,  should  not  the  crown  of  martyrdom  encircle  his 
brow  ?  He  did  not,  indeed,  expire  under  the  axe,  or  in  the 
fire  of  persecution  ;  but  he  counted  not  his  life  dear  unto 
himself,  and  sacrificed  it,  in  abundant  labors  and  courageous 
exertions  in  that  fatal  climate.  Two  have  gone  from  that  most 
elevated  and  interesting  Missionary  station — Middleton  and 
Heber  ;  both  great  and  good  ;  both  perfectly  adapted  to  their 
respective  work  ;  the  former,  by  his  firmness  and  sound  dis- 
cretion '  to   plant   the   Church — the  latter,  by  his   ardor  to 


NOTES.  143 

nourisli  it ;  and  botli  were  faithful  unto  death.  A  longer  de- 
ferred termination  of  his  responsible  duties  we  may  wish  for 
their  successor,  Bishop  James,  but  a  more  glorious  one  we 
cannot. 

NOTE  C,  P.   132. 

"Within  the  limits  ordinarily  assigned  to  a  sermon,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  represent  with  any  effect  the  benefits  that 
have  actually  been  derived  from  the  labors  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sionaries. Information  upon  this  point  is,  however,  abundant 
and  accessible.  The  reports  of  Missionary  Societies  and  the 
journals  of  Missionaries,  are  replete  with  interesting  accounts 
of  the  influence  of  the  Gospel  upon  the  characters  of  the 
heathen,  purifying  their  conduct,  elevating  their  minds,  open- 
ing to  theni  the  prospects  of  immortality,  and  at  the  same 
time  improving,  in  an  unspeakable  degree,  their  temjDoral 
comforts.  See  the  Journal  of  Stewart  at  the  Sandwich  Isles, 
the  Moravian  Reports  every  where,  any  number  of  the  Mis- 
sionary Herald,  and  the  Journal  of  Bishop  Heber,  which  we 
trust  will  soon  be  given  to  the  American  public. 

For  the  evidence  of  an  immense  amount  of  good  accom- 
plished both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  for  an  illustration  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  Church  of  God  should  fulfil  its  ap- 
propriate and  solemn  duty  of  disseminating  the  Word  of 
God,  see  the  reports  of  the  venerable  and  most  excellent 
Society  for  promoting  Christian  Knowledge. 

Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  had  an  interesting  con- 
versation with  an  intelligent  captain  of  an  American  ship, 
who  arrived  here  but  a  few  weeks  since,  from  the  Sandwich 
Islands.  He  visited  these  islands  twenty-seven  years  ago  for 
the  first  time,  and  has  since  been  there  as  frequently,  and 
perhaps  more  so,  than  any  captain  who  has  sailed  from  this 
country.  The  account  he  gives  me  of  the  improvement  of 
the  natives,  is  most  satisfactory,  and  most  encouraging  to 
future  exertions  in  their  favor.  When  he  first  knew  them 
they  were  barbarous,  half  naked,  ignorant,  grossly  immoral 
from  the  contaminating  intercourse  of  dissolute  foreigners, 
and  he  was  in  constant  fear  for  his  personal  safety  while  on 
shore  ;  now  they  are  decently  apparalled,  possess  a  written 


144  KOTES. 

language  by  wliicli  they  hold  a  perfect  and  easy  intercourse  ; 
the  arts,  and  even  the  elegancies  of  civilization  are  intro- 
duced among  them,  and  life  and  property  and  commercial 
intercourse  are  guarded  by  judicious  laws  and  regulations. 
This  great  change  has  been  accomplished  within  a  few  years, 
and  he  attributes  it  entirely  to  the  beneficial  influence  of  the 
religion  carried  there  by  the  Missionaries. 

There  may  be  statements  of  an  opposite  nature  given  by 
some  persons.  But  can  we  not  easily  account  for  them  ? 
When  this  gentleman  first  went  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  a 
very  lucrative  trade  was  carried  on  by  the  Eurojjeans  and 
Americans.  The  poor  Indians,  in  their  ignorance,  would 
barter  away  large  quantities  of  sandal  wood,  and  other  com- 
modities, for  articles  of  the  smallest  value.  At  present,  how- 
ever, they  are  so  much  improved  and  so  well  instructed,  that 
they  have  learned  the  relative  value  of  their  own  produc- 
tions and  foreign  manufactures,  and  all  hopes  of  any  thing 
but  a  fair  and  honorable  trade  are  done  away.  Now,  are 
there  not  persons  in  the  world  selfish  enough,  and  unj)rin- 
cipled  enough,  to  endeavor  to  discountenance  and  bring  into 
disrepute  any  system  which  has  interfered  with  their  con- 
temptible pecuniary  interests  ?  Contemptible  indeed,  when 
put  in  competition  with  the  intellectual  and  religious  im- 
provement, the  present  comfort  and  future  happiness  of  thou- 
sands of  immortal  creatures. 

The  intelligent  person  who  suggested  these  observations, 
made  one  other,  which  struck  me  as  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  quick  success  of  Missions,  and  one  which,  I 
fear,  has  been  too  much  neglected  by  our  Missionary  Boards — 
caution  to  be  exercised  in  the  selection  of  judicious  and  well- 
instructed  Missionaries.  It  is  a  dangerous  idea,  and  one 
which  should  at  once  be  discountenanced  by  all  who  are  con- 
nected with  Missionary  operations,  that  a  person,  who  from 
some  prominent  defect  in  manners,  or  from  dulness  of  mental 
powers,  is  unfitted  for  ministering  at  home,  may  do  very  well 
for  the  heathen  provided  he  has  zeal  and  piety. 

NOTE  D,  P.   135. 
In  the  Essay  which  was  referred  to  in  K^ote  A,  and  which, 


isroTES.  145 

ill  the  Memoirs  of  John  Urqiihart,  Yol.  I.  p.  81,  will  be  foimd 
entitled  "  Dr.  Chalmers,  St.  Andrews  Missionary  Society," 
there  are  some  highly  important  suggestions  npon  this  point. 
Dr.  Chalmers,  as  there  styled,  is  indeed  a  Christian  philo- 
sopher. The  course  he  pursued  at  St.  Andrews,  is  worthy  of 
imitation  in  all  our  Colleges,  more  especially  in  our  Theolo- 
gical Seminaries.  To  collect  Missionary  intelligence  indus- 
triously, to  arrange  it  judiciously,  and  to  draw  inferences 
from  it  logically,  and  thus  to  arrive  with  something  of  the 
certainty  of  science,  at  the  best  practical  means  of  dissem- 
inating the  Gospel,  is  certainly  an  object  deserving  the  atten- 
tion and  labors  of  every  true  and  enlightened  Christian,  more 
especially  of  those  who  superintend  the  preparatory  studies 
of  the  heralds  of  the  cross. 

NOTE  E,  p.  137. 

African  Mission  School. — The  time  would  not  permit  me 
to  enlarge  upon  this  important  subject,  but  I  refer  the  reader 
to  Section  IV.  of  an  admirable  little  volume,  "  Hints  on  Mis- 
sions," by  James  Douglass,  Esq. : — -though  small  in  comj^ass, 
it  is  large  even  to  sublimity  in  the  views  it  presents,  and  the 
anticipations  it  throws  out  concerning  the  Ivingdom  of  Christ 
on  the  earth. 

Greece  might  be  another  interesting  sphere  for  Missionary 
labor.  With  the  fair  prospect,  and  almost  the  assurance  of 
j)olitical  independence ;  with  a  true  Church  existing  there, 
although  decayed  and  dilapidated  like  her  ancient  temples ; 
with  prepossessions  favorable  to  this  country,  through  the 
benevolent  interest  w^e  have  exhibited  in  her  favor ;  we  have 
every  reason  to  believe,  that  judicious  and  able  Missionaries 
sent  from  hence,  might  accomplish  much  in  reanimating  the 
spirit  of  true  religion  in  that  land,  dear  to  us  as  scholars  by 
its  classical  associations,  far  dearer  to  us  as  Christians  as  the 
scene  of  Paul's  j^i'eaching  and  labors.  The  desolating  flood 
of  Mahometan  superstition  shall  be  rolled  back,  and  the  seven 
Churches  of  Asia  will  emerge  from  it.  Would  that  it  might 
be  the  honorable  privilege  of  our  own  pure  and  Apostolic 
Church,  to  aid  in  removing  the  corruptions  that  have  gathered 
upon  them,  and  in  rebuilding  their  towers  and  strengthening 
10 


146  NOTES. 

tlieir  battlements,  and  making  them  again  the  gloiy  of  the 
East,  a  praise  and  a  name  unto  the  ends  of  the  world  !  In 
addition  to  our  exertions  in  favor  of  Africa,  which  is  our  first 
duty,  we  might,  if  we  had  true  zeal,  accomplish  something 
in  this  cause.  One  or  two  able  and  learned  and  pious  Mis- 
sionaries (for  thej  must  be  eminent  in  all  these  qualities  to 
be  really  efficient),  could  we  obtain  them,  might  move  the 
lukewarm,  and  animate  the  desponding  among  the  Greek 
clergy,  and  produce  an  intercourse  of  love  between  two  sister 
Churches,  having  the  common  bond  of  a  primitive  ministry. 
But  perhaps  the  exj^ression  of  such  anticipations  is  pre- 
mature ;  we  may,  however,  cherish  them  in  our  hearts,  and 
pray  for  their  speedy  accomplishment. 

In  brinffino;  these  notes  to  a  conclusion,  I  find  that  thev 
have  swelled  far  beyond  my  expectation,  and  yet  I  have  said 
but  a  small  portion  of  what  is  present  to  my  thoughts.  The 
subject  has  constantly  ojDcned  upon  me  since  I  took  my  pen 
to  write  upon  it,  and  new  views  are  constantly  appearing  to 
my  mind.  Tlie  cause  of  Foreign  Missions  now  seems  to  me 
connected  in  the  most  intimate  manner  with  the  prosperity 
of  our  Church  at  home.  I  do  believe,  that  in  no  way  can 
we  so  effectually  subserve  our  own  ecclesiastical  interests, — 
exciting  and  extending  among  ourselves  a  pure  and  self-de- 
nying spirit  of  piety,  and  an  enlightened  and  ardent  attach- 
ment to  our  own  distinctive  principles,  as  by  j)lanning  and 
laboring,  contributing  and  praying,  to  make  this  Church 
known  and  glorified,  as  the  blessed  instrument  of  communi- 
cating spiritual  knowledge  and  spiritual  consolations  to  all 
people  and  kindred  and  tongues  that  dwell  on  all  the  face  of 
the  earth.  Arouse  then,  fathers  and  brethren,  ministers  and 
people — as  we  are  a  Church  professing  primitive  faith  and 
Apostolic  discipline,  let  us  also  be  a  Church  exhibiting  primi- 
tive zeal  and  Apostolic  devotion  to  evangelizing  the  world  ; 
and  may  Jesus  our  Lord  a^id  Saviour  be  with  us — he  liath 
promised  solemnly  and  faithfully  to  be  with  us  "  alway,  even 
to  the  end  of  the  world,"  provided  (and  let  us  all  well  re- 
member the  condition),  provided  we  go  fokth  and  preach 
THE  Gospel  to  every  creature. 


INEQUALITIES  IN  WEALTH  THE  ORDINANCE 
OE  GOD.* 


Deuteronomy  xv.  11. 
The  poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land. 

Feom  these  words  we  must  of  necessity  infer  tliat 
there  existed  amongst  the  Jews  a  marked  inequality 
in  the  distribution  of  wealth  ;  and,  moreover,  that  this 
condition  of  things  was  not  accidental  or  temporary, 
but  was  to  be  regarded  by  them  as  perpetual.  The 
same  prominent  feature  being  equally  discernible  in 
our  own  and  in  all  other  communities  of  civilized  men, 
two  questions  obviously  claim  our  attention.  Fii-st,  is 
this  distinction  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  essential 

*  This  Sermon  was  preached  before  His  Excellency  John  Davis, 
Governor,  His  Honor  Samuel  T.  Armstrong,  Lieutenant-Governor,  the 
Honorable  Council,  and  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts,  on  the  Annual 
Election,  January  7th,  1835,  Dr.  Wainwright  being  at  the  time  Rector 
of  Trinity  Church,  Boston.  The  thanks  of  the  Senate  "vvere  presented  to 
the  preacher,  and  a  copy  was  requested  for  the  press.. 


148  INEQUALITIES   IIST   WEALTH 

to  tlie  improvement  and  happiness  of  man,  or  may  we 
anticipate  its  removal  at  some  future  period,  and  under 
some  more  favorable  combination  of  tlie  elements  of 
the  social  compact  ?  And  again,  if  we  cannot  reason- 
ably look  forward  to  its  removal,  but  are  constrained 
to  believe  that  it  is  a  distinction  arising  out  of  the 
nature  of  man  and  the  present  order  of  God's  provi- 
dence, can  such  a  conclusion  be  adduced  as  an  argu- 
ment against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  that  great 
Being  who  created  man,  and  liatli  determined  tlie  hounds 
of  his  habitation  f  *  Thus  a  very  important  and  inter- 
esting subject  of  discourse  is  suggested  to  us  by  the 
text,  and  one  which  I  trust  will  not  be  deemed  inap- 
propriate to  the  present  occasion. 

I  am  aware  that  it  is  a  difficult  and  delicate  one  to 
treat  of,  and  also  that  it  may  require  the  introduction 
of  topics  not  generally  regarded  as  within  the  prov- 
ince of  preachers  of  th^  Gospel.f  As,  however,  the 
civil  authorities  of  the  State  must  be  supposed  to 
acknowledge  the  truth  and  excellency  of  religion, 
when  they  come  up  to  the  house  of  God  annually, 
in  solemn  form,  as  the  opening  act  of  theii*  session,  it 
would  seem  to  be  a  fit  opj^ortunity  to  exhibit  religion 
in  what  may  be  called  its  temporal  aspect,  as  advancing 
and  sustaining  principles  essential  to  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  civil  society.  This  I  conceive  it  does, 
when  it  recognizes  and  sanctions  the  principle  of  in- 
equality in  the  distribution  of  wealth  amongst  men ; 
and  when  it  declares,  both  in  express  terms,  and  by 

*  Acts  xvii.  26.  t  See  Note  A. 


THE    ORDINANCE   OF   GOD.  149 

tlie  particular  duties  it  enjoins  on  the  ricli  and  an  the 
poor,  that  this  is  to  be  acquiesced  in  as  a  permanent 
condition  of  society.  But  it  may  be  said,  that  religion 
recognizes  and  sanctions  many  other  things,  which,  in 
the  present  advanced  state  of  knowledge  and  morals, 
are  either  not  essential  to  the  welfare  of  civil  society, 
or  else  are  absolutely  detrimental  to  its  true  interests  ; 
as,  for  example,  a  kingly  government,  and  the  condi- 
tion of  slavery.  It  is  incumbent  therefore  upon  the 
advocate  of  religion,  who  believes  that  the  declaration 
of  the  text  will  remain  true  while  this  state  of  proba- 
tion lasts,  to  vindicate  the  Divine  Benevolence  in  this 
respect ;  and  to  show,  that  if  it  is  ordained  that  th£ 
'poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land^  it  is  so  ordained 
because  such  an  appointment  is  essential  to  the  true 
happiness  and  progressive  improvement  of  the  human 
family.  This  will  be  the  object  of  my  discourse,  and  I 
respectfully  request  for  it  the  candid  and  patient  atten- 
tion of  this  distino^uished  audience. 

In  pursuing  my  design,  I  shall,  in  the  riRST  place, 
interpret  the  broad  assertion  contained  in  my  text, 
and  suggest  some  important  limitations  that  may  be 
reasonably  prescribed  to  it. 

Secondly,  I  shall  endeavor  to  prove  that  the  in- 
equality of  condition,  which  it  implies,  is  essential  to- 
the  political,  the  intellectual,  and  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious improvement  of  the  human  race ;  and, 

Lastly,  I  shall  j)oint  out  how  the  more  grievous 
and  repulsive  circumstances  attending  upon  this  con- 
stitution of  the  social  state  may  be  meliorated,  if  not 
entirely  removed. 


150  LCfEQTJALITIES   TN   WEALTH 

I.  T/ie  'poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land.  Is 
this  declaration  of  tlie  inspired  Lawgiver,  to  be  re- 
garded as  exclusively  applicable  to  liis  own  country 
and  people  ?  or  must  it  be  extended  to  all  nations, 
and  to  all  future  periods  of  time  ?  We  know  tliat, 
up  to  tlae  present  moment,  these  words  have  been 
most  truly  proj^hetic  of  the  condition  of  civilized  man. 
Under  every  form  of  government,  and  in  every 
varied  state  of  society,  distinctions,  caused  by  the 
unequal  distribution  of  wealth,  have  existed.  Not- 
withstanding they  have  been  often  denounced  as 
unjust  and  injurious,  and  efforts  have  repeatedly  been 
made,  both  by  legislative  interference,  and  during 
the  excitement  of  political  commotions,  to  remove 
them;  yet  all  has  been  unavailing.  Nor  have  we 
any  reason  to  believe  that  this  condition  of  our  being 
can  be  altered  by  any  exertions  of  man,  his  own 
nature  remaining  what  it  is,  and  the  arrangements 
of  Divine  Providence,  in  relation  to  him,  continuing 
unchanged.  Whilst  one  man  is  weak  of  body,  and 
another  possesses  athletic  strength ;  while  the  intellect 
of  one  is  dull  and  inactive,  and  that  of  another  bright 
and  vigorous ;  while  the  energies  of  one  are  paralyzed 
by  frequent  and  long-continued  sickness,  and  another 
is  incited  to  constant  activity  by  uninterrupted  and 
elastic  health — so  long  will  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet 
together^  in  human  society;  and  so  long  must  we 
acknowledge  that  the  Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all.j- 

These  are  causes  sufficient  to  produce  the  effect, 

*  Proverbs,  xxii.  2.  t  Job,  i.  22. 


THE    ORDESTANCE   OF   GOD.  151 

setting  aside  those  tliat  originate  in  the  vices  of  men, 
as  dissipated  living,  prodigality,  improvidence,  con- 
trasted with  the  virtues  of  temperance,  frugality,  and 
prudence.  But,  notwithstanding  the  clearest  indi- 
cations that  such  is  the  ordinance  of  an  overruling 
Providence,  yet  there  have  never  been  wanting  those 
who  have  inveighed  against  it,  and  have  thus  either 
openly,  or  by  inference,  charged  God  fooUsldy.^ 
Some,  taking  counsel  of  their  own  benevolent  but 
visionary  feelings,  and  wishing  to  distribute  happiness 
more  equally  amongst  men,  have  thought  that  this 
could  be  done  by  more  nearly  equalizing  their  out- 
ward condition ;  others  have  been  incited  by  a  restless 
impatience  under  their  comparative  inferiority,  and 
have  hoped  to  extend  their  own  boundaries  by 
removinrj  the  ancient  landmarlcs ;  f  others,  again, 
impelled  ])y  inordinate  and  unprincipled  ambition, 
have  been  ever  eager  to  catch  the  ear  and  secure  the 
favor  of  the  unthinking  multitude,  by  flattering  their 
ignorant  prejudices,  and  inflaming  their  unhappy 
jealousies  against  those  they  esteem  more  favored 
by  fortune  than  themselves.  We  need  not  look  to 
past  ages,  nor  to  transatlantic  countries,  for  such 
examples  of  enthusiastic  and  shortsighted  benevolence 
on  the  one  hand,  or  reckless  and  unprincipled  avarice 
and  ambition  on  the  other.  I  do  not  think  that  in  a 
community  as  intelligent  as  our  own,  and  as  well 
grounded  in  the  great  principles  of  moral  and  religious 
obligation,  we    are  to  aj)prehend   any  great   danger 

*  Proverbs,  xxii.  28.  t  Deut.  xxvii.  17. 


152  INEQUALITIES    EST   WEALTH 

from  tlie  prevalence  of  sucli  false  and  pernicious 
doctrines.  Still  they  should  not  be  permitted  to 
pass  unnoticed.  They  should  occasionally  be  brought 
forward  to  keep  in  general  circulation  the  important 
considerations  by  which  they  are  refuted;  and  they 
should  uniformly  be  reprobated,  not  simply  because 
they  are  speculatively  untrue,  but  because  they  are 
at  war  with  the  permanent  interests  and  the  true 
happiness  of  society.  This  point  I  shall  presently 
have  occasion  to  notice  and  illustrate.  In  the  mean 
time,  it  is  necessary  to  state  more  distinctly  what  we 
are  to  understand  by  the  assertion  that  the  poor  shall 
never  cease  out  of  the  land. 

Is  the  human  race,  then,  doomed  for  ever  to  groan 
under  the  load  of  evils  and  miseries  heaped  upon 
society,  in  consequence  of  exorbitant,  heartless,  and 
luxurious  wealth,  on  the  one  hand,  and  abject  and 
squalid  poverty,  on  the  other?  Is  the  picture  of 
the  rich  man  clothed  in  puiyle  and  fine  linen.,  and  who 
fared  sumptuously  every  day^  and  the  beggar.,  Lazarus., 
laid  at  his  gate.,  full  of  sores.,  and  desiring  to  he  fed 
ivith  the  criimhs  which  fell  from  the  rich  mmi's  table '"" — 
is  this  picture  destined  to  find  its  prototype  sooner 
or  later  in  all  countries,  and  in  all  succeeding  genera- 
tions ?  God  forbid !  I  would  not  by  such  an 
admission,  imply  a  heavy  suspicion  against  the 
doctrine  of  a  wise  and  merciful  superintending  Prov- 
idence. I  draw  a  far  different  inference  from  the 
actual  operations  of  this  Providence,  as  we  read  them 

*  Luke,  xvi.  19. 


THE    OKDINANCE    OF   GOD.  153 

in  the  past  history  and  present  condition  of  the  human 
race. 

I  exult  in  the  conviction  that  the  whole  tendency 
of  civilized  society  is  to  improvement  in  knowledge, 
virtue,  and  happiness.  I  see  the  elements  in  vigorous 
activity,  that  are  producing  this  effect,  in  the  spread 
of  the  Gospel,  the  multiplication  of  the  Bible,  the 
diffusion  of  education,  the  progress  of  the  temperance 
reformation,  the  prevailing  conviction  that  peace  is 
the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings  to  nations,  and,  last 
of  all,  but  by  no  means  the  least  of  all,  in  the 
increasing  attention  paid  to  that  valuable  science 
which  is  yet  destined  to  shed  innumerable  blessings 
upon  the  family  of  man,  Political  Economy.*'* 

While  many  other  evils  attendant  uj)on  the  social 
state  are  thus  to  be  gradually  meliorated,  if  not 
entirely  removed,  I  cannot  believe  that  the  great  and 
obvious  one,  now  under  consideration,  will  remain 
untouched.  We  know  that  at  present  there  exists  a 
vast  difference  between  nations,  in  regard  to  the 
distribution  of  wealth  amongst  their  respective  inhab- 
itants. Compare  the  condition  of  the  humbler  classes 
of  society  in  Italy  or  Ireland,  v\dth  that  of  the  sime 
classes  in  England,  France,  or  Holland;  and,  then 
again,  compare  the  proj)ortions  of  the  rich  and  poor, 
and  the  number  of  desfrees  between  their  relative 
situations  in  these  countries,  and  in  our  own  favored 
and  happy  land.  The  contrast  is  manifest,  and  it  is 
produced  by  causes  which  men   begin   to  trace  out 

*  See  Note  B. 


154  LNEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

and  understand.  This  knowledge  will  be  constantly 
increased  by  awakened  interest  and  close  observation; 
it  will  be  disseminated  by  intelligent  and  philan- 
thropic minds,  and  it  will  be  applied  more  and  more 
by  individuals  and  by  corporate  and  legislative  bodies, 
to  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  pauperism,  and  to  re- 
moving altogether  the  evils  of  a  tolerated  mendicity. 
The  poor  man  will,  indeed,  still  be  found  in  every 
community,  because  riches  and  poverty  are  relative 
terms,  and  indicate  no  absolute  condition.  We  may 
reasonably  hope,  however,  that  at  some  future  period 
in  the  progressive  improvement  of  the  human  race, 
such  a  state  as  suffering  indigence  will  be  unknown. 
"  These  conditions,  it  has  been  well  observed,  are 
essentially  distinct  and  separate.  Poverty  is  often 
both  honoi'able  and  comfortable ;  but  indigence  can 
only  be  pitiable,  and  is  usually  contemptil^le.  Poverty 
is  not  only  the  natural  lot  of  many  in  a  well  con- 
stituted society,  but  is  necessary  in  order  that  a  society 
may  be  well  constituted.  Indigence,  on  the  contrary, 
is  seldom  the  natural  lot  of  a]iy,  but  is  commonly  the 
state  into  which  intemperance  and  want  of  j)rudent 
foresight  push  poverty;  the  punishment  which  the 
moral  government  of  God  inflicts  in  this  world  upon 
thoughtlessness  and  guilty  extravagance. "  * 

Why  may  we  not,  with  joyful  hope,  look  forward 
to  a  state  of  far  greater  and  far  more  diffused  happi- 
ness and  prosperity,  than  the  present,  in  reserve  for 
our  children's  children,  if  not  for  ourselves  or  our 

*  Bishop  Sumner's  "Records  of  the  Creation." 


THE    ORDESTANCE    OF    GOD.  155 

immediate  offspring  ?  Why  may  we  not  even  indulge 
a  confident  belief,  that  they  will  find  themselves  in  a 
community  where  depraved  and  reckless  indigence 
will  be  unknown,  or,  where,  if  observed,  it  will  be 
regarded  as  a  crime  against  society,  and  where  neither 
suffering  nor  disgrace,  nor  any  idea  of  unworthy  in- 
feriority will  be  attached  to  poverty, — a  community 
in  which  a  man  will  be  called  poor,  not  because  he  is 
destitute  of  the  means  of  a  comfortable  subsistence — 
not  because  rare  and  far  distant  opportunities  are 
afforded  him  of  relaxation  from  severe  toil  for  the 
purpose  of  bodily  health,  rational  enjoyment,  or 
mental  cultivation — not  because  he  is  deprived  of  the 
means  of  giving  to  his  offspring  every  advantage  for 
education  which  the  development  of  theii^  faculties 
may  render  desirable, — but  poor  simply  by  contrast 
with  his  neighbor  who  has  been  endued  with  firmer 
health,  or  a  more  active  and  enterj^rising  mind,  or 
who  has  enjoyed  more  favorable  opportunities  for  the 
exercise  of  his  powers,  or  because  these  blessings  have 
been  bestowed  upon  his  parents,  and  he  has  justly 
inherited  the  fruits  of  their  successful  labors,  or 
because  God,  by  the  inscrutable  workings  of  his 
Providence,  and  for  reasons  wise  and  benevolent, 
though  not  obvious  to  the  limited  sight  of  man,  has 
cast  down  one  and  lifted  up  another.  For  after  all 
we  must  acknowledge  that  it  is  He,  the  Author  of  our 
being,  and  the  Ruler  of  our  destinies,  that  permits  or 
produces  the  variety  of  condition,  as  well  intellectually 
and   physically,    as   in     outward   circumstances,    that 


156  INEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

exists  amongst  men.  He  raisetli  wp  the  jjoor  out  of  the 
dust^  and  lifteth  the  needy  out  of  the  dunghill^  that 
he  may  set  him  with  princes^  even  with  the  princes 
of  his  people.'^' 

Both  riches  and  honor  come  of  thee^  and  thou 
veignest  over  all ;  and  in  thine  hand  is  power  and 
might ;  and  in  thine  hand  it  is  to  malce  great  and  to 
give  strength  unto  all.j- 

The  power  of  God  then  acknowledged,  we  rely 
upon  his  goodness,  justice  and  benevolence,  to  bring  to 
pass  iu  his  own  time,  and  by  his  own  wise  ordinances, 
the  desirable  changes  in  the  social  state  to  which  we 
have  just  alluded.  But  are  we  led  astray  by  a  vain 
delusion,  when  we  antici|)ate  such  results  ?  Is  imagi- 
nation suggesting  some  idle  dream  of  perfectibility 
which  shall  never  be  realized  in  the  waking  existence 
of  man  ?  We  believe  not.  We  may  express  om*  as- 
surance in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  when  he  says, 
the  needy  shall  not  always  he  forgotten  '^  the  expectation 
of  the  poor  shall  not  perish  for  ever.\  We  find  ample 
encouragement  also  for  our  anticipations  in  such  de- 
scriptions as  that  of  the  evangelical  prophet  when  fore- 
telling the  universal  peace,  ]3rosperity  and  happiness, 
that  shall  be  realized  upon  the  earth  during  the  pro- 
gress of  the  reign  of  King  Messiah.  With  righteous- 
ness shall  he  judge  the  poor  and  reprove  with  equity  for 
the  meek  of  the  earth  ;  and  he  shall  smite  the  earth  tvith 
the  rod  of  his  mouthy  and  ivith  the  hreath  of  his  lips 
shall  he  slay  the  wiched.     And  righteousness  shall  he 

*  Psalm  cxiii.  7.  1 1.  Ohron.  xxis.  12.  J  Psalm  ix.  18. 


THE   OKDIlSrANCE    OF   GOD.  157 

the  girdle  of  Ms  loins  ^  and  faithfulness  tlie  girdle  of  his 
reins''^  And  tlie  effect  of  tliis  equitable  and  merciful 
administration  of  tlie  laws  by  the  rulers  of  the  earth 
under  the  spiritual  influence  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
will  be  as  represented  in  the  bold  figurative  language 
of  prophecy,  that  the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamh^  and 
the  leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  hid ;  and  the  calf 
and  the  young  lion  and  the  failing  together^  and  a  little 
child  shall  lead  them.j-  And  they  shall  not  hurt  nor 
destroy  in  all  the  holy  mountain  of  the  Lord ;  for  the 
earth  shall  he  full  of  the  Tcnowledge  of  the  Lord^  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea.% 

In  such  a  state  of  society  there  will  be  heard  no 
repining  of  the  poor  at  the  better  success  of  the  rich — 
no  secret  and  corroding  envyings  will  be  pent  up  in 
their  breasts — no  outbreaking  of  mad  and  unprincipled 
efforts  to  reduce  all  to  their  own  condition ;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  there  will  be  no  glorying  in  the  distinc- 
tion that  wealth  confers,  no  hoarding  it  up  for  selfish 
gratification ;  but  all  the  members  of  society  feeling 
that  its  laws  and  regulations  have  been  just,  and  have 
given  to  each,  as  far  as  was  practicable,  equal  oppor- 
tunities of  success,  they  will  know  that  their  respective 
conditions  have  been  influenced  by  the  pro\ddeuce  of 
God ;  and  the  tendency  of  this  conviction  will  be  to 
render  the  poor  man  patient  and  contented,  the  rich 
humble,  charitable,  and  public  spirited. 

But  here  it  may  be  demanded,  if  such  a  change  as 
this  can  be  effected  in  the  existing  relations  between 

*  Isaiah  xi.  4,  5.         t  Isaiah  xi.  4.         J  Isaiali  xi.  9. 


158  INEQUALITIES   i:^   WEALTH 

the  ricli  and  the  poor,  and  if  we  may  reasonably  look 
for  it  as  resulting  from  the  progress  of  Christian  knowl- 
edge and  virtue,  why  may  not  a  still  greater  improve- 
ment be  effected ;  why  may  not  all  inequalities  amongst 
men  as  to  outward  condition  be  removed ;  and  as  we 
are  all  the  offspring  of  one  common  parent,  why  may 
we  not  hope  that  the  human  race  will  in  process  of 
time  be  prepared  for  an  equal  distribution  of  wealth, 
and  that  this  consummation,  so  devoutly  wished  for  by 
many,  will  be  actually  realized  at  the  auspicious  open- 
ing of  some  millennial  age  ?  Why  ?  Because  we 
believe  that,  constituted  as  the  world  is,  such  a  modi- 
fication of  the  social  relations  would  not  be  practicable, 
nor  if  practicable,  would  it  conduce  to  the  virtue  and 
happiness  of  men  as  individuals,  or  to  the  progress  of 
society  at  large.  Moreover,  as  far  as  we  can  infer  the 
designs  of  the  Creator  from  the  moral  and  physical 
capacities  he  has  given  to  man,  and  from  the  theatre 
on  which  they  are  to  be  exercised,  such  was  never  his 
intention.  If  it  be  ftirther  demanded,  why,  in  forming 
the  world  and  its  inhabitants,  did  he  expose  them  to 
such  pitiable  and  unequal  conditions,  and  make  it  ne- 
cessary to  their  hapj)iness  and  improvement  that  they 
should  appear  to  be  treated  by  theii'  common  Father 
with  such  striking  partiality  ? — to  this  objection  we 
shall  be  ready  to  reply,  when  any  one  will  instruct  us 
how  to  account  satisfactorily  for  the  existence  of  physi- 
cal and  moral  evil. 

Here  let  me  adopt  the  sentiments  of  a  distinguished 
author  of  the  present  day  •  "  I  do  not  profess  to  ex- 


THE    OEDINANCE    OF    GOD.  159 

plain  wliy  tilings  were  so  ordered,  tliat  any  advance- 
ment at  all  slioiild  be  needful ;  why  mankind  were  not 
placed  at  once  in  a  state  of  society  as  Mglily  civilized 
as  it  was  destined  ever  to  be.  The  reasons  for  this  are 
probably  unfathomable  by  us  in  this  world.  It  is 
sufficient  for  our  present  purpose,  merely  to  remark 
the  fact,  that  the  apj)arent  design  of  Providence  evi- 
dently is,  the  advancement  of  mankind,  not  only  as 
individuals,  but  as  communities.  Nor  again  do  I  pro- 
fess to  explain,  why,  in  so  many  particular  instances, 
causes  have  been  permitted  to  operate,  more  or  less, 
towards  the  frustration  of  this  general  design,  and  the 
retardation,  or  even  reversal,  of  the  course  of  improve- 
ment. The  difficulty  in  fact  is  one  which  belongs,  not 
to  this  alone,  but  to  every  branch  of  Natural  Theology. 
In  every  part  of  the  universe  we  see  marks  of  wise 
and  benevolent  design ;  and  yet  we  see  in  many  in- 
stances apparent  frustrations  of  this  design ;  we  see 
the  productiveness  of  the  earth  interru]3ted  by  un- 
favorable seasons — the  structure  of  the  animal  frame 
enfeebled  and  its  functions  impaired  by  disease — and 
vast  multitudes  of  living  beings  ex2:)osed,  from  various 
causes,  to  suffering  and  to  premature  destruction.  In 
the  moral  and  political  world,  wars,  and  civil  dissen- 
sions— tyrannical  governments,  unwise  laws,  and  all 
evils  of  this  class,  correspond  to  the  inundations,  the 
droughts,  the  tornadoes,  and  the  earthquakes  of  the 
natural  world.  We  cannot  give  a  satisfactory  account 
of  either ;  we  cannot,  in  short,  explain  the  great  dif- 
ficulty, which,  in  pro23ortion  as  we  reflect  attentively, 


160  INEQUALITIES   EST    WEALTH 

we  shall  more  and  more  perceive  to  be  the  only  difficul- 
ty in  theology,  the  existence  of  evil  in  the  universe." 

"But  two  things  we  can  accomplish,  which  are 
very  important,  and  which  are  probably  all  that  our 
present  faculties  and  extent  of  knowledge  can  attain 
to.  One  is,  to  perceive  clearly  that  the  difficulty  in 
question  is  of  no  unequal  pressure,  but  bears  equally 
heavy  on  Deism  and  on  Christianity,  and  on  the  various 
different  interpretations  of  the  Christian  scheme  ;  and 
consequently  can  furnish  no  valid  objection  to  any  one 
scheme  of  religion  in  particular.  Even  Atheism  does 
not  lessen  our  difficulty ;  it  only  alters  the  character 
of  it.  For  as  the  behever  in  a  God  is  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  the  existence  of  evil^  the  believer  in  no 
God,  is  equally  unable  to  account  for  the  existence 
of  good ,'  or  indeed  of  any  thing  at  all  that  loears 
marks  of  design^''  * 

Our  subsequent  reasonings,  then,  are  all  to  be 
grounded  upon  the  nature  of  man  and  his  present 
condition  as  we  find  them.  Assuming  these  positions, 
and  also  the  great  and  important  one,  that  the  present 
is  only  a  state  of  probation,  the  future  life  one  of  retri- 
bution, all  material  difficulties  are  removed ;  and  we 
are  prepared  to  contend,  that  the  wise  and  benevolent 
designs  of  Providence  in  making  our  probation  a  moral 
disci})line,  are  accomplished  by  creating  those  distinc- 
tions between  men  that  are  now  under  consideration. 

II.  I  am  thus  led  to  the  secojstd  paet  of  my  subject, 
in  which  I  shall  endeavor  to  prove,  that  inequality  of 

*  Archbishop  Whately. 


THE   OEDINANCE   OF   GOD.  161 

condition  amongst  men  in  relation  to  wealth,  is  essen- 
tial to  the  political,  the  intellectual,  and  the  moral  and 
religious  improvement  of  the  human  race. 

Be  it  specially  observed,  that  my  argument  is  found- 
ed upon  the  fact  of  the  race  of  men  being  brought  into 
the  world  with  the  greatest  possible  difference  in  their 
physical  and  intellectual  endowments,  and  their  exist- 
ing in  a  state  where  both  physical  and  moral  evil  are 
experienced.  Upon  such  premises  I  contend,  that  the 
unequal  distribution  of  wealth  is  not  only  a  necessary 
and  unavoidable  consequence,  but  that  it  is  essential  to 
producing  the  greatest  amount  of  knowledge,  virtue 
and  happiness. 

1.  We  will  first  examine  into  the  effect  of  this  prin- 
ciple upon  the  political  condition  of  man.  By  political 
condition,  I  mean  the  relations  in  which  he  is  placed  as 
a  social  being.  Men  have  heretofore  lived,  and,  in 
some  remote  and  barbarous  situations,  do  at  present 
live  together  without  any  experience  of  the  distinctions 
created  by  wealth.  We  also  have  some  knowledge  of 
communities  where  these  distinctions  have  been  re- 
moved by  legislative  interference.  But  no  one  con- 
versant with  this  page  in  the  history  of  our  race, 
would  venture  to  draw  from  thence  an  illustration  of 
the  benefits  of  a  system  of  equalized  property,  except 
under  the  influence  of  wild  romance,  or  of  blind  de- 
votion to  a  theory.* 

Let  us,  however,  for  a  moment  direct  our  attention 

*  Kousseau,  Godwin,  and  all  this  race  of  writers  fall  under  one  or 
other  of  these  conditions 
11 


162  INEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

to  two  opposite  states  of  society,  one  probably  the  most 
enlightened,  in  which  the  princij)le  of  equalization  was 
ever  deliberately,  and  for  any  continued  period  of  time, 
put  to  the  test ;  the  other  approaching  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  what  is  sometimes  called  the  state  of  nature. 
Let  us  glance  at  the  social  relations  as  they  existed  in 
the  rej)ublic  of  Lacedsemon,  and  as  they  now  exist 
amongst  the  native  tribes  of  our  own  country. 

Who  would  consent  to  place  himself  under  the 
laws  of  Lycurgus,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  equal  distri- 
bution of  property  which  he  effected,  exj^ose  himself 
and  his  oflfepring  to  a  destitution  of  domestic  comforts, 
intellectual  refinement,  and  all  that  softens,  expands, 
gladdens  and  elevates  the  human  heart,  such  as  Sparta 
was  subject  to  at  its  best  estate  ?  True,  the  sons  of 
Lacedgemon  were  brave  and  hardy,  and  nobly  for  a 
time  did  they  maintain  the  freedom  of  their  land ;  for 
to  this  object,  and  this  alone,  all  their  physical  and 
moral  education  was  directed,  and  in  reference  to  this, 
and  this  alone,  the  whole  system  of  their  policy  was 
constructed.  But  it  was  only  freedom  from  a  foreign 
yoke  that  they  enjoyed ;  their  internal  bondage  was 
cruel  in  the  extreme.  It  kept  in  chains,  and  beneath 
an  iron  sceptre,  the  noblest  faculties  and  affections  of 
the  soul.  And,  moreover,  in  order  to  secure  their  own 
selfish  independence,  and  at  the  same  time  maintain 
the  false  and  forced  principle  that  their  misguided 
legislator  introduced,  they  kept  in  the  most  abject 
slavery  thousands  of  their  fellow-beings.  To  perform 
the  various  ofiaces  necessary  to  the  comfortable  sub- 


THE    ORDINANCE    OF   GOD.  163 

sistence  of  man,  and  sucli  as  are  accomplislied  easily, 
naturally,  and  humanely,  tlirougli  tlie  operation  of  tlie 
varied  conditions  of  society  that  civilization  encourages 
and  demands,  the  forty  thousand  Spartans  were  obliged 
to  hold  in  subjection,  and  live  in  the  di^ead  of,  four 
hundred  thousand  slaves.'^  So  much  for  an  equal  di- 
vision of  property  amongst  what  is  called  a  civilized 
people. 

But  this  principle  is  illustrated  in  another  manner, 
as  operating  fi'eely  and  without  constraint  amongst  the 
native  tribes  of  our  own  country.  And  who,  to  pur- 
chase their  freedom,  would  assume  the  manifold  evils 
of  their  condition — its  wandering  life,  its  uncertainty, 
its  exposure  to  constant  danger,  and  to  frequent  and 
horrible  famine,  to  say  nothing  of  its  utter  privation 
of  sciences  and  the  arts,  and  all  the  social  enjoyments 
of  civilized  man  ?  And,  moreover,  look  at  their  j)resent 
wretched  condition — how  fast  are  they  dwindling  away. 
And  what  is  the  cause  ?  Not  so  much  the  vices  that 
contact  with  civilized  hfe  has  unhappily  exposed  them 
to,  as  the  want  of  that  industry,  enter]3rise,  forecast, 
self-denial,  which  the  great  principle  of  holding  proper- 
ty in  severalty  always  produces  in  a  community  of  men. 
And  this  principle,  left  to  its  free  operation  for  any 
considerable  period  of  time,  will  inevitably  produce 
inequality  of  condition. 

*  These  numbers  may  not  be  accurate,  but  the  proportions  cannot  be 
far  from  the  truth.  They  are  stated  as  given  by  Bishop  Sumner,  in  his 
"  Records  of  Creation."  Miiller's  History  and  Antiquities  of  the  Doric 
Race,  translated  by  Tufnell  and  Lewis,  Vol.  II.,  gives  full  Information 
upon  this  and  aU  other  points  connected  with  the  social  condition  of  Sparta. 


164  INEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

But  it  may  be  said,  tliat  in  countries  where  tlie 
distinctions  caused  by  property  exist,  and  where  they 
are  the  most  obvious,  the  greater  proportion  of  the  in- 
habitants are  subjected  to  a  bondage  not  less  grievous 
than  that  of  the  Helots  in  Sparta,  and  are  exposed  to 
miseries,  uncertainties  and  privations,  as  great  as  those 
endured  by  our  Indian  tribes.  Witness  Turkey,  Rus- 
sia, parts  of  Italy,  and  Ireland.  I  reply,  that  in  the 
first  place,  my  argument  is  not  responsible  for  the  con- 
sequences following  unjust  and  arbitrary  distinctions, 
the  remains  of  feudal  oppression ;  in  the  next  j)lace,  it 
requires  that  property  should  not  only  be  free  to  follow 
its  natural  course,  but  also  that  the  rights  of  property 
should  be  sacredly  preserved ;  and  in  the  last  place, 
the  argument  may  reasonably  ask  a  just  allowance  in 
any  particular  case,  as  in  that  of  Ireland,  for  bad  and 
oj)pressive  acts  of  legislation  and  excess  of  jDopulation. 
With  these  limitations,  I  would  contend  that  inequality 
of  circumstances  amongst  a  people,  always  produces 
the  most  desirable  results  in  the  reciprocal  action  of 
the  social  relations.  We  know  that  the  whole  tendency 
of  things  in  a  community  is  to  such  inequality,  and  that 
it  requires  violence  on  the  part  of  governments  to  ob- 
struct this  tendency,  and,  moreover,  that  amongst  the 
freest,  the  most  intelligent  and  the  happiest  nations  of 
the  earth,  the  distinctions  thus  caused  have  always 
existed.  From  these  facts,  which  are  indisputable,  we 
might  be  authorized  to  infer  the  truth  of  the  great 
principle  we  contend  for. 

But  follow  out  the  consequences   resulting  from 


THE   OEDIJSTAlSrCE   OF   GOD.  165 

diversity  in  the  condition  of  men,  and  you  will  see  ac- 
cumulated reasons  to  assent  to  and  admire  this  ordi- 
nation of  Providence.  No  one  who  has  for  a  moment 
thought  of  the  subject  can  doubt,  that  in  order  to  the 
comfort  even,  of  civilized  society,  very  many  different 
occupations  must  be  performed,  and  must  be  carried 
on  at  the  same  time, — ^lands  must  be  tilled,  houses  must 
be  built,  fabrics  for  clothing  must  be  made,  implements 
of  various  kinds  must  be  formed,  and  vessels  must  be 
constructed  and  navigated.  It  is  equally  obvious  that 
the  di\dsion  of  labor  is  essential  to  giving  full  effect  to 
these  occupations.  In  addition  to  these  employments, 
there  are  various  other  trades  and  professions  to  be 
filled,  and  also  different  offices  for  the  due  maintenance 
of  the  laws — and  without  laws  no  civilized  community 
can  hold  together.  If  you  oblige  every  man  to  be  his 
own  mechanic,  farmei',  manufacturer  and  navigator, 
and  to  do  his  share  of  the  magistracy  upon  some  prin- 
ciple of  rotation,  it  is  obvious  that  we  can  none  of  us 
enjoy  as  many  or  as  great  advantages  as  we  do  under 
the  present  system  ;  and  it  is  equally  obvious,  that  all 
these  various  occupations  receiving  only  the  divided 
attention  of  an  individual,  must  very  fast  go  backward, 
and  the  knowledge  and  dexterity  which  men  now  pos- 
sess in  their  various  employments  in  proportion  to  the 
undi^dded  attention  they  give  to  them,  must  be  con- 
stantly and  rapidly  diminished.  I  take  it  for  granted 
that  no  man,  even  in  very  moderate  circumstances, 
would  choose  to  relinquish  the  comforts  and  conve- 
niences  he  now  possesses  in  his  humble  habitation. 


166  IKEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

He  would  not  like  to  be  deprived  of  liis  glazed  win- 
dows whicli,  let  in  tlie  liglit  wliile  tliey  exclude  tlie 
wind  and  the  cold,  or  of  the  various  domestic  utensils 
of  ii'on  and  earthenware  in  which  his  simple  meals  are 
cooked  and  served  up,  or  the  different  fabrics  of  linen, 
cotton,  silk,  woollen  and  leather  which  supply  himself 
and  his  family  with  clothing ;  nor  would  he  choose  to 
exchange  his  convenient  tools  of  trade  for  the  stone 
axe  and  the  flint  knife  of  the  Indian.  Yet  such  would 
be  the  inevitable  result  were  the  benign  and  admirable 
principle  of  the  division  of  labor  to  be  banished  from 
society.  How  then  is  it  to  be  maintained — how  ?  but 
by  holding  forth  to  every  man  a  stimulus  to  activity, 
ingenuity  and  enterprise,  in  the  hope  of  bettering  his 
condition.  Many  employments  essential  to  the  exist- 
ence of  civilized  society  are  yet  so  unpleasant  in  them- 
selves, that  no  one  would  undertake  them  but  from 
the  excitement  of  such  a  motive.  But  were  all  men  to 
be  made  equal,  and  were  they  obliged,  by  the  laws  of 
society,  to  continue  so,  there  could  be  no  such  animat- 
ing impulse  to  the  exertion  of  our  bodily  or  mental 
powers.  Who  is  so  ignorant  of  himself  and  of  human 
nature  as  not  to  know  that  until  we  have  secured  the 
kind  assistance  of  habit,  labor  of  every  descrij^tion  is 
irksome,  and  that  the  hope  of  advancing  ourselves  is 
the  exciting  principle  that  overcomes  our  natural  love 
of  ease,  and  sharpens  all  the  human  faculties.  Strike 
this  out  of  the  social  state  and  we  should  deteriorate 
year  by  year,  till  we  dropped  down  to  the  degi^aded 
level  of  savages.     Now  this  important,  this  essential 


THE   OKDDfAlSrCE   OF   GOD.  16*7 

principle  cannot  subsist  without  the  distinctions  of  rich 
and  poor. 

Again,  be  it  observed,  that  it  is  not  now  a  question 
with  us,  or  with  any  set  of  men  capable  of  discussing 
the  subject  before  us,  whether  the  distinction  of  rich 
and  poor  shall  be  introduced.  It  actually  exists,  and 
can  only  be  removed  by  violence.  Were  the  option 
given  by  the  All-wise  Creator  to  some  set  of  men 
forming  a  new  community,  who  were  endowed  with 
the  same  intellectual  qualities  and  moral  affections 
that  we  possess,  but  destitute  of  the  knowledge  and 
experience  we  have  of  the  social  state,  I  think  it 
likely  that,  with  the  exception  of  some  few  ardent 
and  ambitious  spirits,  they  would  say  "  let  us  all  be 
equal."  There  would  be  something  grateful  to  the 
human  heart  in  the  apparent  justice  and  benevolence 
of  such  an  arrangement,  and  knowing  nothing  of  the 
comforts  and  advantages  of  ci\dlization,  they  would 
have  nothing  to  regret,  and  they  might  live  on  in  a 
state  of  mental  apathy  and  mere  animal  enjoyment. 
But  such  a  choice  cannot  now  be  given ;  we  have 
acquired  the  knowledge  and  tasted  of  the  comforts 
of  civilized  life.  Are  we  willing  to  give  them  up  ? 
And  for  what  ?  For  an  artificial  equahty  in  the  goods 
of  fortune  alone, — for  do  what  we  will,  we  cannot 
make  om^selves  equal  in  intellect,  in  health,  or  in 
personal  quahties,  as  beauty,  strength  and  activity, — 
for  a  fancied  advantage,  which  would  prove  in  the 
event  to  be  an  awful  curse  and  a  hateful  condition  of 
existence.       Who    that   has  enjoyed    the    delightful 


168  ENEQUALITIES   E!^   WEALTH 

change  of  prospect,  and  felt  the  invigorating  effects 
of  varied  exercise  over  hill  and  dale,  would  choose  to 
be  condemned  to  walk  for  ever  after  over  one  level, 
dull,  unbroken  plain  ?  Who  that  has  experienced  the 
animating  impulse  of  successful  enterprise,  and  has 
toiled  under  the  bright  and  encouraging  hope  of  being 
richer,  wiser,  and  happier,  day  by  day,  and  year  by 
year,  would  give  up  this  wakeful  and  exciting  life,  for 
one  of  unchanging,  sleepy  mediocrity?  Give  us  the 
opportunity  of  bettering  our  condition,  and  we  readily 
take  with  it  all  the  hazards  of  failure  and  disappoint- 
ment. There  is  hardly  an  individual  now  on  the  stage 
of  active  life,  who  would  he  willing  to  come  to  a  full 
stand  at  this  moment,  and  never  again  be  permitted 
to  move.  This  is  proved  in  the  experience  of  every 
day,  in  the  conduct  of  all  around  us.  The  universal 
impulse  is  forward,  and  if  it  produces  some  evils  in 
exciting  ambition,  euvyings,  jealousies,  dishonesty,  and 
strife,  it  calls  into  existence  a  thousand-fold  more 
blessings  in  the  bright  and  varied  intelligences,  the 
hardy  and  ennobling  virtues,  the  dauntless  and  per- 
severing energies  of  our  nature.  Those,  therefore,  who 
would  throw  down  the  distinctions  created  by  wealth, 
may  justly  be  denounced  as  the  deadly  enemies  of  all 
human  enterprise. 

2.  Nor  are  these  distinctions  in  society  less  essen- 
tial to  its  intellectual  improvement.  Knowledge,  we 
may  venture  to  say,  is  now  prized  by  all  men.  Even 
those  who  are  supposed  to  defend  most  warmly  the 
levelling  system,  are  yet  the  professed  advocates  of 


THE    ORDESTANCE    OF   GOD.  169 

knowledge.  Indeed,  who,  in  tlie  present  day,  would 
venture  to  stand  up  and  deny,  or  even  question,  the 
reality  of  the  benefits  thus  conferred  upon  man  ? 
Now  knowledge  has  heretofore  been  acquired  and 
accumulated  entirely  through  the  operation  of  the 
principle  of  the  di\dsion  of  labor.  Were  it  not  for 
this  constitution  of  society,  we  could  make  no  further 
advances  in  science  and  the  arts,  and  should  doubtless 
very  rapidly  lose  what  we  now  possess.  It  will  not 
be  disj)uted  that  we  have  vast  advantages  over  men 
in  the  uncivilized  state.  Look,  for  a  moment,  at  the 
contrast  between  us  and  them.  They  have  not  well 
constructed  habitations,  filled  with  the  conveniences 
and  comforts  of  living;  well  cultivated  fields  and  a 
profusion  of  vegetables  and  fruits,  with  a  constant 
succession  of  new  and  improved  varieties ;  their  agri- 
culture makes  no  advances,  nor  their  implements  of 
husbandry,  war,  or  the  chase,  from  father  to  sou, — 
they  have  no  roads,  bridges,  railways,  to  facilitate  the 
intercourse  of  men,  and  the  exchange  of  commodities ; 
when  fatigued  with  labor,  or  confined  by  inclement 
weather,  they  are  furnished  with  no  intellectual  em- 
ployment and  pleasure  in  the  printed  volume ;  they 
have  no  weekly  and  daily  visitor  in  the  form  of  a 
newspaper,  coming  in  to  tell  them  what  is  going  for- 
ward in  every  part  of  the  habitable  globe — ^their 
means  of  storing  up  the  wisdom  of  past  ages,  and  the 
events  that  have  affected  their  political  relations,  are 
only  uncertain  tradition,  aided  by  few  imperfect  and 
perishing  monuments.      In   these   respects,   how   im- 


ITO  no:QTJALiTrEs  in  wealth 

measurable  tlie  distance  between  tliem  and  us  ?  And 
why  ?  Because  tliey  are  destitute  of  science  and  the 
arts.  And  why  are  they  thus  destitute?  Because 
they  have  never  adopted  the  principle  of  the  division 
of  labor.  And  why  has  not  this  great  improvement 
been  adoj^ted  by  them  ?  Because  land  has  not  been 
held  in  severalty  by  them,  and  they  have  not  been 
excited  to  accumulation,  by  the  unequal  distribution 
of  wealth. 

3.  When  we  take  up  the  argument  in  favor  of  our 
position,  on  the  ground  that  this  state  of  things  in 
a  community,  promotes  the  moral  and  religious  im- 
provement of  the  human  race,  we  have  a  still  greater 
advantage  on  our  side.  It  has  been  contended  by  * 
one  of  the  ablest,  and  certainly  the  most  eloquent  of 
the  advocates  of  the  levelling  system,  that  if  all  con- 
ditions of  men  should  be  reduced  to  an  equality,  the 
great  incitements  and  opportunities  to  commit  crimes 
would  be  cut  off.  There  would  be  no  fraud,  theft, 
injustice,  violence,  or  avarice,  when  all  men  possessed 
the  same  proj)ortion  of  the  comforts  and  conveniences 
of  life.  Now  this  statement  we  believe  to  be  utterly 
fallacious,  and  we  rej)ly  to  it,  that  there  could  not 
possibly  be  a  state  of  society  where  there  existed  no 
perceptible  difference  between  men  as  to  their  posses- 
sions. The  field  of  one  would  be  a  little  more  fertile, 
or  a  little  better  watered ;  the  cave  or  hut  of  another 
would  be  more  commodious,  or  better  situated; 
another  would  possess  newer  or  better  implements  of 

*  Rousseau. 


THE   ORDINANCE    OF   GOD.  171 

husbandry  or  tlie  chase,  than  his  neighbor.  Or,  if 
in  these  respects  they  could  by  any  possibility  be 
made  and  kept  exactly  alike,  they  must  inevitably 
differ  in  other  particulars  not  less  essential  to  happi- 
ness— one  would  be  healthier,  handsomer,  stronger,  or 
blessed  with  a  more  numerous  and  promising  ofifepring 
than  his  neighbor.  Now,  while  the  nature  of  man 
remains  what  it  is,  these  circumstances  would  furnish 
abundant  occasions  for  the  development  of  its  evil 
propensities.  Theft,  fraud,  or  envying,  are  the  same 
intrinsically,  and  produce  the  same  evil  effects  upon 
the  moral  constitution,  whether  excited  by  great  or 
small  things.  To  accomplish  the  good  anticipated, 
the  change  must  be  produced  in  the  individual  minds 
and  consciences  of  men ;  no  human  power  can  so  alter 
their  external  state  as  to  effect  it.  •  Besides,  gi^anting 
that  it  would  follow  as  a  result  from  the  levelling 
system,  that  occasions  for  crime  would  be  lessened,  is 
it  not  ob^dous  that  at  the  same  time  the  opportunities 
for  the  cultivation  and  display  of  the  noblest  virtues 
that  adorn  our  nature,  would  be  cut  off!  What 
could  we  know  of  mtegrity,  perseverance,  industry, 
generosity,  beneficence,  humility,  patience,  self-denial  ? 
That  adversity  is  the  school  of  virtue,  has  been  the 
favorite  maxim  of  the  wisest  and  best  even  of  the 
heathen  philosophers.  And  it  is  a  fact  that  all  those 
gi'eat  writers  who  have  treated  of  the  subject  of 
virtue,  discussed  the  nature  and  obligations  of  duty, 
and  unfolded  the  moral  and  intellectual  capabilities 
of  our  nature,  have  lived  in  ages  and  in  countries, 


172  INEQUALITIES    Ltf   WEALTH 

where  distinctions  in  tlie  outward  condition  of  men, 
and  the  painful  consequences  that  follow  them,  have 
been  most  marked.  Indeed,  this  state  of  society  has 
furnished  them  with  the  means  of  observation,  and 
has  suggested  to  them  the  great  principles  of  morals, 
and  exhibited  to  them  these  principles  in  action  for 
their  delineation.  Were  the  circumstances  of  men 
equalized,  their  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  would 
become  feeble  and  sluggish,  and  the  state  of  the  moral 
world  would  be  analogous  to  that  of  our  phj^sical 
earth,  were  the  whole  reduced  to  one  unvaried  plain. 
The  whole  atmosphere  then  being  one  dense,  unwhole- 
some vapor,  the  whole  land,  one  dead  and  dreary 
level,  the  whole  ocean,  one  waveless  and  stagnant 
pool,  our  world  would  be  fit  only  for  those  huge  mis- 
shapen creatures,  the  next  remove  from  senseless 
matter,  such  as  geologists  have  discovered,  and  such 
as  existed  ere  the  Almighty  Architect  broke  up  the 
fountains  of  the  great  deep,  and  caused  the  mountains 
and  hills  to  pierce  the  skies  and  condense  the  vapors 
for  refreshing  showers,  the  healthful  winds  to  blow 
about  them,  the  joyous  rivers  to  pour  down  from 
their  summits,  carrying  verdure  and  fruitfulness  to 
the  humble  valleys  beneath,  and  thus  rendering  it 
capable  of  supporting  active  life  in  varied  and  count 
less  forms  of  beauty  and  utility  to  man. 

If  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  enlarged  sphere 
of  duty  that  Christianity  has  opened  to  man,  and 
consider  the  elevated,  moral  and  intellectual  character 
which  it  points  out  to  him,  and  for  which  it  is  designed ^ 


THE   ORDINANCE   OF    GOD.  11 S 

to  prepare  him,  it  is  more  clearly  demonstrable,  tliat 
equality  of  condition  was  never  intended  to  be  the 
element  in  wliicli  tlie  Cliristian  was  to  be  trained. 
There  was,  indeed,  for  a  short  period,  and  amongst  a 
few  of  the  early  disciples  of  the  Saviour,  a  community 
of  goods ;  but  this  arose  from  local  and  temporary 
causes.  It  was  never  required  or  recommended,  and 
it  never  prevailed.  It  is  repugnant  even  to  the 
spirit  of  the  Gospel,  which  demands  the  cultivation  of 
tempers  of  mind,  such  as  charity,  self  denial,  humility 
in  prosperous  circumstances,  patience  in  adversity; 
and  these  can  be  cultivated  only  in  a  state  of  society 
where  tJie  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together^  and  where 
it  is  devoutly  acknowledged  that  the  Lord  is  maker 
of  them  all.  As,  however,  the  sincere,  the  pious,  and 
consistent  Christian,  can  never  be  found  amongst 
those  who  would  do  violence  to  the  order  of  God's 
providence,  and  for  a  selfish  advantage  or  a  proble- 
matical good,  undermine  the  foundation  of  all  social 
institutions,  we  need  push  this  part  of  the  argument 
no  further. 

The  unequal  distribution  of  wealth,  then,  we 
beheve  to  be  not  only  an  unalterable  consequence 
of  the  nature  of  man,  and  the  state  of  being  in  which 
he  is  placed,  but  also  the  only  system  by  which  his 
happiness  and  improvement  can  be  promoted  in  this 
state  of  being.  We  do  not  deny  that  there  are  exols 
attending  it,  and  that  in  some  countries  it  has  been 
fostered  by  artificial  and  injurious  regulations,  until 
it  has   become   oppressive   and   unreasonable.      The 


174  INEQUALITIES   IIST   WE.ILTH 

principle  itself  is  fundamentally  true  and  just,  but  it 
may  be,  and  often  lias  been,  pushed  to  sucli  an  ex- 
treme, as  to  be  detrimental  to  tlie  best  interests  of 
society.  When,  in  any  country,  there  are  only  two 
classes,  the  very  rich  and  the  very  poor;  or  when 
the  tendency  of  political  regulations  is  to  produce  this 
effect,  as  is  the  case  under  all  aristocratical  govern- 
ments, the  consequences  must  be  bad.  The  middling 
class,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  that  is,  the  portion 
of  the  community  that  lies  between  the  two  extremes 
of  riches  and  poverty,  is  its  strength,  intelligence  and 
virtue.  Of  course  we  may  infer,  that  that  country  is 
the  most  prosperous  and  happy,  which  has  the  greatest 
proportion  of  this  class  of  citizens.  It  is  one  e\ddence, 
and  we  may  assert  it  to  be  the  strongest,  of  the  value 
of  our  public  institutions,  that  they  have  produced 
this  effect,  and  that  in  no  country  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  is  the  middling  class  as  relatively  large,  as  in 
our  own.  How  then  are  we  to  maintain  ourselves  in 
this  enviable  condition  ?  Or  if,  as  is  feared  by  some, 
we  are  gradually  declining  from  it,  and  indi\dduals 
amongst  us  are  becoming  too  rich,  by  the  accumulation 
of  capital,  and  others  getting  to  be  too  poor,  and 
threatening  to  become  burdens  upon  society,  how  are 
we  to  remedy  the  evil  and  prevent  its  recurrence? 
These  are  momentous  questions.  Can  we  accomplish 
the  object,  and  keep  the  happy  medium  through 
legislative  interference,  by  checking  the  increase  of 
capital,  by  forcing  the  wealthy  under  a  process  of 
unequal  taxation,  to  give  up  a  portion  of  their  super- 


THE    OEDESTANCE   OF   GOD.  175 

abundance,  or  by  an  agrarian  system  of  tlie  division 
of  property?  None  but  a  madman,  an  ignorant  en- 
thusiast, or  an  unprincipled  demagogue,  could  propose 
this  latter  remedy.  Nor  will  the  others  be  tolerated 
for  a  moment  by  sound  and  enlightened  judgment. 
As  to  an  equal  division  of  property  by  some  act  of 
legalized  violence,  it  would  avail  just  as  much  as  a 
child's  play  in  drawing  squares  and  circles  ujDon  a 
sandy  beach ;  the  returning  tide  of  human  passions, 
enterprise,  and  industry,  (and  return  it  would  as  cer- 
tainly as  ocean  ebbs  and  flows,)  would  sweep  the 
whole  away,  and  leave  the  surface  marked  as  before 
by  unequal  ridges.  If  we  would  save  the  structure 
of  society  from  utter  dissolution,  maintain  inviolate 
our  civil  and  religious  liberties,  and  preserve  ourselves 
from  j)olitical  dangers,  awful  and  incalculable,  let  us 
most  sacredly  guard  the  rights  of  j^roperty.  This  is 
the  palladium  of  nations,  this  is  the  pledge  of  theii* 
improvement  in  all  the  arts  that  civilize  and  adorn 
our  nature,  this  is  their  security  for  advancement 
in  morals  and  religion.  Once  touch  the  rights  of 
property,  let  it  be  felt  that  men  are  impeded  and 
harassed  in  their  eftbrts  to  obtain  it,  that  its  posses- 
sion is  insecure,  and  that  portions  of  it  may  be  taken 
from  them  by  unequal  taxation,  and  you  immediately 
stop  enterprise,  and  with  enterprise  the  j^i'ogi'ess  of 
knowledge,  and  with  the  progress  of  knowledge,  that 
also  of  virtue — and  then  where  is  the  happiness  of 
such  a  community?  It  must  be  torn  by  intestine 
commotion,  or  if  this  is  kept  under  by  the  military 


176  INEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

arm  of  a  strong  and  despotic  executive,  it  must  pre- 
pare to  see  its  commerce  sicken  and  die,  its  agricultm^e 
decay,  its  manufactories  silent  and  in  ruins,  its  schools 
deserted,  its  roads  impassable  and  infested  with 
banditti,  and  all  its  institutions  relapsing  into  a  state 
of  Turkish   barbarism. 

What  then  ?  are  there  no  precautions  to  be  taken 
against  the  evils  which  arise  from  the  unequal  distri- 
bution of  wealth,  and  no  remedies  which  may  be 
applied  to  alleviate  or  remove  these  evils,  when  they 
begin  to  exhibit  themselves  ?  Yes,  doubtless  there 
are;  and  a  brief  consideration  of  some  of  them  is 
intended  in  the  third,  and  last  part  of  my  discourse, 
in  which  it  was  proj^osed, 

III.  To  point  out  how  the  more  grievous  and  re- 
pulsive circumstances  attending  inequality  of  condition 
in  a  community  in  regard  to  wealth,  may  be  meliorated, 
if  not  entirely  removed. 

The  leading  objects  to  which  the  attention  of  wise 
and  philanthroj)ic  men  has  been  directed,  and  which 
should  now  more  universally  awaken  the  strenuous 
solicitude  of  the  friends  of  humanity,  are  three ;  the 
promotion  of  industry;  the  extension  and  improve- 
ment of  the  means  of  education  ;  and  the  dissemination 
of  Christian  truth. 

In  all  these  departments,  much  may  be  effected 
by  individuals,  more,  perhaps,  than  by  legislatm^es. 
An  active  and  intelligent  mind,  ioibued  with  sound 
princi]3les,  and  warmed  with  true  benevolence,  can 
accomplish    great    things.      By   such    noble    spirits. 


THE   OEDINANCE    OF   GOD.  177 

governments  even  are  enliglitened,  are  roused  to  a 
sense  of  their  duty,  and  are  instructed  in  its  nature. 
How  much  has  already  been  accomplished  by  them ! 
All  great  princij^les  by  which  the  welfare  of  the 
human  race  is  promoted,  are  struck  out  as  it  were,  in 
private  meditation ;  and  the  fii'e  thus  kindled  in 
solitude,  burns  up  like  a  beacon  light  upon  a  lonely 
mountain,  and  on  the  neighboring  eminences  there  are 
ever  men  upon  the  watch,  and  they  catch  the  bright 
signal,  and  repeat  it  till  it  is  communicated  in  rapid 
succession  to  every  hill-top,  and  at  last  the  deep  and 
distant  valleys  glow  with  the  glad  reflection  from  a 
thousand  intellectual  fires.  Knowledge  thus  produced 
and  widely  disseminated,  must  reach,  and  must  influ- 
ence, and  idtimately  control  public  bodies  of  delegated 
authority.  A  great  encouragement  this  to  intelligent 
and  benevolent  individuals,  who  have  the  good  of 
their  country  and  the  human  family,  at  heart.  Let 
them  proceed,  and  by  their  individual  labors,  and  by 
their  associated  efibrts  in  societies,  excite  theii*  fellow- 
beings  to  industry,  knowledge,  and  religion,  and  great 
shall  be  their  reward, — ^great  in  the  applause  of  the 
good  and  wise  of  the  earth,  greater  in  the  approbation 
of  conscience,  but  unspeakably  the  greatest  of  all,  in 
that  glorious  kingdom  where  tliey  that  he  wise  shall 
shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament ;  and  they  that 
turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the  sta/rs,  for  ever  and 
ever.  '"^ 

1.  The  first  point  to  be  looked  at  is  the  promotion 

*  Daniel  xii.  3. 
12 


178  i]o:qualities  est  wealth 

of  industry.      Private  example,  tlie  animating  effect 
of  fairs,  exhibitions,  and  rewards,  held  out  by  agricul- 
tural and  other  kindred  institutions,  have  accomplished 
much,  and  very  much  more  may  reasonably  be  anti- 
cipated from  these  sources.     But   legislative   bodies 
should  by  no  means  be  indifferent  to  this  important 
subject.     They  can  at   least   encourage  industry,   by 
abstaining  from  throwing  any  thing  in  the  way  of  its 
free  exercise.     How  much,  or  what  they  can  do  by 
positive  encouragements,  is  a  disputed  question,  and 
one  of  very  difficult  solution.     The  desire  of  bettering 
his  condition,  is  an  active  principle  in  man ;  and  his 
intelligence  m  this  respect  is  naturally  so  clear,  that 
he  wants  but  opportunity  to  exercise  his  powers,  and 
the  full  assurance  that  all  which  his  honest  exertions 
produce  will  be  secured  to  him,  and  every  thing  will 
be  accomplished  that  we  can  reasonably  desire.     Now 
in  our  own   happy  country,  every  man   enjoys   this 
glorious  assurance.      And  never,  oh  never,  may  the 
day,  the  dreadful  day,  arrive,  when  the  poorest  of  the 
citizens  of  these  United  States  can  justly  say  that  he 
is  oppressed  by  the  rich ;  or  when  the  richest  can  for 
a  moment  doubt,  whether  or  not  his  well-earned  and 
legally  obtained  treasures  shall  be  wrested  from  him 
by   popular   violence,   or   shall   subject   him    to    un- 
rio-hteous   and  illeo^al   exactions !     Now   we  are   safe 
in  the  security  of  the  rights  of  property.     God  pre- 
serve to  us  and  to  our  childi^en  for  ever  this  inestima- 
ble blessing !     But  as  regards  a  free  and  full  oppor- 
tunity  given    to    every   man    to    exert    his   powers. 


THE    OEDESTANCE    OF   GOD.  179 

and  employ  his  capital,  have  we  yet  arrived  at  an 
equally  permanent  and  prosperous  state  ?  I  fear  not. 
How  to  reconcile  the  entire  freedom  of  commercial  en- 
terprise, wMch  is  of  unspeakable  importance  to  tlie 
advancement  of  such  a  country  as  ours  in  wealth,  intel- 
ligence, and  the  arts  of  life,  with  the  encouragement 
of  domestic  industry,  which  is  a  paternal  duty  that 
every  citizen  has  a  right  to  demand  from  the  govern- 
ment under  which  he  lives,  is  a  grave  and  difficult 
problem.  It  is  obvious  that  we  have  not  yet  solved 
it.  But  I  dare  not  touch  upon  the  higher  questions  to 
which  such  a  discussion  would  lead.  There  are  too 
many  interested  in  it,  and  too  much  at  stake  to  allow 
it  to  slumber  for  a  month  or  even  a  day.  I  may,  how- 
ever, be  permitted  to  turn  my  attention  to  those  who 
have  not,  perhaps,  so  many  to  advocate  their  cause — I 
mean  what  are  called  the  workino^  classes.  I  do. not 
like  or  approve  the  appellation,  for  it  suggests  a  dis- 
tinction between  the  members  of  a  community,  which 
does  not  in  reality  exist.  The  merchant  who  exerts 
the  thought  and  plies  the  pen  of  a  busy  correspond- 
ence, labors  as  hard  as  the  farmer  at  the  plough  ;  and 
the  professional  man,  and  the  man  of  study,  works  as 
painfully,  and  for  as  many  hours  as  the  humblest  me- 
chanic. I  adopt  the  term,  however,  in  compHance  with 
custom.  Now,  how  shall  the  working  classes  in  a  com- 
munity be  stimulated  to  industry  ?  There  is  but  one 
way.  Promote  all  measures  that  are  calculated  to  secure 
to  them  high  and  certain  wages.  I  confess  that  I  most 
sincerely  rejoice,  when  I  hear  of  measures  or  events, 


180  INEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

the  eflect  of  wliicli  is  to  raise  tlie  price  of  any  labor 
whatever,  provided  always  that  illegal  and  irrespon- 
sible combinations  and  meetings  are  uniformly  to  be 
deprecated  by  the  friends  of  justice  and  good  order. 
The  raising  the  amount  of  wages  in  any  country  by  a 
judicious  and  equitable  process,  is  the  most  feasible,  the 
most  natural,  the  most  unexceptionable  mode  of  remov- 
ing the  painful  distinctions  created  by  wealth.  When 
the  portion  of  a  community  employed  in  manual  labor 
is  well  paid,  of  course  it  will  be  well  fed,  conveniently 
lodged,  and  comfortably  clothed.  It  is  then  prepared 
to  become  constantly  more  intelligent.  It  will  abstain 
from  low  habits  and  sensual  recreations.  Its  demand 
will  be  for  purer  and  more  refined  pleasures.  It  will 
learn  prudence  and  forecast,  and  will  see  that  industry 
and  economy  in  health,  and  in  early  life,  will  secure 
comfort  and  independence  in  sickness  and  in  old  age. 
And  it  will  be  taught  by  frequent  and  striking  exam- 
ples, that  the  rich  and  the  poor  are  travelling  one  com- 
mon road,  and  are  constantly  passing  and  repassing 
each  other,  the  one  often  ascending  the  hill  with  pain- 
ful and  slow  steps,  the  other  going  down  with  a  rapid 
and  headlong  descent ;  and  that  the  barriers  and  obsta- 
cles we  meet  with  in  our  upward  progress,  are  fre- 
quently placed  there  by  our  own  fault  or  folly.  The 
working  classes  in  a  community  thus  enjoying  all  the 
substantial  comforts  of  life,  experiencing  the  rewards 
of  industry  and  the  excitement  of  accumulation,  relish- 
ing intellectual  pleasures  and  the  pure  satisfaction  of 
virtuous  conduct,  will  they  not  sensibly  feel  that  they 


THE    OEiDIlSrANCE    OF   GOD.  181 

have  a  deep  pledge  in  the  political  fabric ;  and  will 
they  not  be  prepared  to  guard  it  with  jealous  care ; 
and  will  they  not  be  far  superior  to  the  romantic 
follies  and  insidious  devices  of  those  who  would  tear 
away  its  very  foundation,  security  of  property  ?  Yes, 
most  assuredly.  And  therefore,  every  man  in  the  com- 
munity has  a  solemn  interest  in  increasing  the  gains, 
and  thus  elevating  the  condition  of  the  working  classes. 
Whatever  be  his  occupation,  or  the  employment  of  his 
capital,  he  should  feel  even  a  personal  interest  in  giving 
efficiency  to  such  measures.  Should  it  be  the  case, 
which  is  not  however  at  all  likely,  that  his  own  profits 
are  somewhat  diminished,  let  him  nevertheless  remem- 
ber, that  if  a  small  stream  is  diverted,  it  renders  the 
great  reservoir  more  secure.  But  if  those  who  think 
they  own  all  the  waters,  and  can  control  all  the  privi- 
leges, will  I'esist  with  a  determined  and  jealous  care 
the  forming  of  any  outlet,  let  them  not  vainly  imagine 
that  their  embankments  will  stand  for  ever.  If  they 
do  not  burst  by  the  superincumbent  weight,  the  hand 
of  violence  will  undermine  them,  and  they  will  one 
day  rush  down  in  precipitous  rain.  But  how  are 
wages  to  be  kept  up  without  protection  from  compe- 
tition with  foreign,  tax-ground,  and  pauper-eaten  na- 
tions ?  And,  if  you  protect  against  the  introduction 
of  their  fabrics,  how  can  you  protect  against  the  influx 
of  their  ignorant,  needy,  and  worthless  population, 
coming  in  to  compete  with  the  earnings  of  your  own 
lawful  born  children,  and  of  course  taking  the  bread 
from  their  mouths  ?     But  I  touch  on  dangerous  and 


182  lE^EQALITIES   EST   WEALTH 

sliaking  ground,  and  feel  that  I  have  not  knowledge 
of  the  sound  places  for  the  feet  to  stand  on,  or  skill, 
or  strength  to  force  my  way  through  the  dark  and 
tangled  forest  that  broods  over  this  as  yet  impervious 
swamp.  I  entertain  the  fullest  confidence,  however,  in 
the  principle  itself,  and  would  follow  fearlessly  to  where 
it  leads.     Ijstdustry  should  be  encouraged  by  main- 

TAINES^G  WAGES  OF  ALL  KTNDS  AT  A  LIBERAL  STAJ^DARD. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  men  must  be  left  to 
theii'  own  energies,  and  must  understand  and  feel  that 
they  must  rely  upon  their  own  exertions  for  support, 
and  that  there  is  nowhere  any  generous  hand,  or  well 
endowed  institution,  to  pamper  them  in  idleness  and 
vice.  No  one  thing  has  tended  more  to  aggravate  the 
evils  caused  by  the  existing  distinction  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  than  the  well  meant  efforts  made  by 
the  one  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  the  other.  By  an 
unenlightened  and  perverted  liberality,  the  extent  of 
pauperism  has  been  increased,  and  its  miseries  aggra- 
vated. It  is  now  time  for  us  to  make  a  broad  distinc- 
tion between  the  means  by  which  real  and  inevitable 
distress  is  to  be  relieved,  and  those  injudicious  attempts 
which  operate  as  a  bounty  to  encourage  the  idle  and 
dissolute.  It  is  the  duty  of  all  who  wish  to  exercise  a 
genuine  philanthropy,  to  examine  rigidly  the  tendency 
of  every  institution  for  whose  support  they  are  called 
upon  to  contribute,  and  to  question  very  closely  every 
single  applicant  for  charity.  Every  sum  given  to  the 
idle  and  dissolute  beggar,  is  so  much  lost  to  the  pur- 
poses of  true  benevolence  ;  and,  in  addition  to  this,  it 


THE   OEDINANCE    OF   GOD.  183 

is  SO  much  given  to  increase  the  evils  of  mendicity. 
So  with  charitable  institutions,  if  their  tendency  be,  as 
is  sometimes  the  case,  to  afford  an  anticipated  asylum 
to  those  who,  by  indolence  and  vice,  have  reduced 
themselves  to  distress,  then  all  that  goes  to  support 
such  institutions  increases  the  very  evils  they  were  de- 
signed to  remedy.  This  indeed  is  a  very  perplexing 
as  well  as  important  subject  to  treat  of,  and  we  have 
hardly  yet  obtained  a  sufficient  amount  of  facts  and 
observations  to  direct  us  to  positive  results.  Amongst 
ourselves,  however,  we  have  the  satisfaction  of  believ- 
ing that  the  mistakes  committed  have  been  very  few, 
the  good  accomplished  very  great.  Our  almshouses, 
which  are  houses  of  industry^  our  disj)ensaries  to  give 
medicine  and  attendance  to  the  sick  poor,  our  hospitals 
to  receive  them  when  suffering  from  casualties  or  from 
chronic  or  violent  diseases,  our  asylums  to  protect  their 
fatherless  and  motherless  offspring,  our  provident  insti- 
tutions to  beget  in  them  the  spirit  of  economy  and  to 
husband  for  them  its  results,  and  in  our  chief  cities  a 
board  of  visitors  and  ministers  at  large,  to  instruct  and 
comfort  them,  and  to  relieve  their  temporal  wants  with 
a  discriminating  benevolence — all  these  we  must  regard 
as  most  praiseworthy  institutions,  and  most  unexcep- 
tionable modes  of  lessening  the  evils  flowing  from  the 
unequal  distribution  of  wealth. 

2.  Another  means  of  alleviating  these  evils,  is  by 
improving  and  diffusing  education. 

You  may  remember  the  forcible  remark  of  one  of 
the  most  eloquent  men  and  distinguished  statesmen  of 


184  HCEQUALITIES   EST   WEALTH 

the  past  age — that  "education  is  the  cheap  defence 
of  nations."  *  I  would  adoj^t  and  enlarge  upon  it,  and 
say  that  it  is  their  defence,  not  merely  from  external 
foes,  by  leading  them  to  fight  valiantly  for  that  be- 
loved country  whom  they  acknowledge  to  be  the 
author  of  their  intellectual  as  well  as  physical  being, 
but  their  defence  also  from  inward  danger,  arising 
from  corrupt  principles,  vicious  practices,  pernicious 
maxims  of  government,  and  prevailing  ignorance,  that 
can  easily  be  wrought  upon,  and  made  the  tool  of 
wicked  and  ambitious  demagogues.  Were  the  people 
of  a  country  generally  well  instructed,  for  example,  in 
sound  principles  of  political  economy,  is  it  not  obvious 
that  a  most  favorable  influence  would  be  exerted  upon 
their  habits,  and  also  upon  the  acts  of  their  legisla- 
ture ?  And  not  only  so,  could  there  any  danger  arise 
from  the  false,  but  plausible  maxims  of  those  who  talk 
so  loudly  about  equalizing  the  condition  of  man? 
Would  not  the  fallacy  of  all  such  doctrines  be  at  once 
understood,  and  those  who  dared  to  advance  them,  be 
at  once  detected  and  shunned  as  the  worst  enemies  to 
theii'  country  and  their  race  ?  But  once  give  to  the 
poor  man  an  insight  into  the  structure  of  civilized 
society,  and  into  the  principles  by  the  operation  of 
which  the  comforts,  the  intelligence,  and  the  whole 
well-being  of  a  community,  are  produced  and  pre- 
served, and  he  would  feel  that  his  own  safety  and 
happiness  are  no  less  involved  than  those  of  the  rich, 
in  maintaining  inviolate  the  rights  of  property.     He 

*  Burke. 


THE    OEDINANCE    OF   GOD.  185 

would  see  that  tlie  levelling  principle  once  introduced, 
although  a  very  small  amount  might  be  for  a  time 
added  to  his  income,  yet  even  this  could  not  last,  for 
the  stimulus  to  indi\'idual  accumulation  taken  away, 
the  capital  of  a  country  could  not  grow,  but  must  be 
diminished,  and  every  one's  share  would  of  course  be 
lessened.  He  would  see  also,  that  he  who  talks  about 
the  danger,  the  tyranny,  the  cruelty  of  capital,  talks 
folly  or  wickedness,  and  argues  as  much  to  the  pur- 
pose as  the  inhabitant  of  Egypt  would  do,  who,  when 
the  Nile  overflows,  should  inveigh  against  those  who 
providently  enclose  a  portion  of  the  fruit-bearing 
waters  in  reservoirs,  to  be  cautiously  and  timely  let 
out,  when  the  river  has  disappeared,  and  the  lands  are 
becoming  dry,  and  the  vegetation  begins  to  be 
parched  with  drought.  With  the  reduction  or  loss  of 
capital,  manufactories  must  cease ;  all  works  of  public 
improvement  must  be  put  an  end  to ;  the  whole  com- 
munity must,  step  by  step,  go  backward ;  and  instead 
of  the  comforts  which  the  poor  man  has  around  him, 
and  the  degree  of  intelligence  he  enjoys,  and  the  hope 
of  bettering  his  condition  by  which  he  is  animated  to 
exertion,  he  must  at  last  drop  down  to  an  ignorant, 
comfortless,  and  hopeless  state  of  existence.  Yes !  it 
can  be  proved  to  a  demonstration,  that  only  the 
worthless  and  depraved  members  of  a  community, 
could  gain  any  thing  by  a  general  division  of  property ; 
and  even  their  advantage  would  be  only  momentary, 
for  the  same  wasteful  and  negligent  habits  and  vicious 
morals  would  soon  reduce  them  to  want  again.     Now 


186  IJSIEQTJALITIES   IN    WEALTH 

education  alone  can  produce  this  enliglitening  of  the 
public  mind.  We  have  done  much  in  this  glorious 
cause,  as  indi\'iduals,  and  as  a  body  politic,  but  more, 
very  much  more  remains  for  us  to  do  in  both  capaci- 
ties. The  system  of  instruction,  in  our  public  schools, 
is  by  no  means  what  it  should  be.  It  is  neither 
thorough  enough,  nor  extensive  enough.  I  am  not  of 
the  opinion  maintained  by  some,  that  it  is  sufficient 
for  those  who  depend  for  subsistence  upon  manual 
labor,  to  be  instructed  simply  in  the  common  branches 
of  education.  No,  I  would  use  all  exertion  to  impart 
to  them  every  poAver  of  knowledge,  and  every  delight 
of  literature.  I  would  make  for  them  intellectual 
pleasures  as  common  as  the  air  they  breathe,  and  as 
free  to  them  as  to  any  other  class  of  persons  in  the 
community.  I  would  allow  of  no  artificial  and  impas- 
sable barrier  between  men,  and  no  distinction  but  that 
which  intelligence  and  moral  worth  produce.  I  see 
not  why  science,  letters,  and  the  mollifying  arts,  may 
not  be  the  common  property  of  the  farmer  and  me- 
chanic, with  the  professional  man  and  the  merchant. 
And  if  they  enjoy  a  community  of  pleasures,  and  have 
common  to^^ics  of  conversation  in  their  occasional  in- 
tercourse, and  find  that  the  same  books,  and  the  same 
ennobling  pursuits  are  open  to  them  all,  will  they  not 
be  drawn  to  each  other  by  a  common  feeling,  and  will 
not  all  painful  and  repulsive  contrasts  between  them 
be  soon  done  away  ?  Then  we  shall  hear  no  more 
about  those  unjust  and  injurious  distinctions  between 
working  men,  and  those  who  do  not  labor  with  their 


THE    ORDINAlSrCE    OF    GOD.  18  Y 

hands.  All  will  know  that  intellectual  labor  is,  at 
least,  as  wearying  to  tlie  flesh,  and  as  exhausting  to 
the  human  faculties,  as  manual  labor.  As  I  before 
said,  the  invidious  distinction  thus  attempted  to  bo 
made,  is  utterly  groundless,  and  is  calculated  only  to 
excite  unhappy  jealousies  between  classes  of  men, 
whose  interest  is  a  common  one,  and  who  should  be 
drawn  together  by  the  closest  sympathies  of  brother- 
hood. 

But  in  addition  to  enlarged  opportunities,  ample 
time  should  be  allowed  to  what  are  called  the  work- 
ing classes,  for  the  cultivation  of  their  minds.  Manual 
labor  should  never  be  permitted  to  occupy  the  whole 
of 'a  man's  existence,  that  is  not  spent  in  sleep  and 
refection,  nor  should  it  ever  be  carried  to  undue 
fatigue  or  exhaustion.  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that 
men  should  not  be  made,  nor  should  they  permit 
themselves  to  be  made,  drudges  and  slaves.  They  are 
intellectual  beings,  and  they  must  vindicate  theii-  title 
to  this  character,  by  demanding  sufiicient  time  and 
bodily  strength,  and  unexhausted  mental  powers,  to 
improve  the  intellect  day  by  day.  He  is  an  enemy  to 
the  true  interests  of  his  race,  who  would  wish  to  see 
his  fellow-beings  w^orked  till  they  have  no  desire  but 
to  eat  and  retire  to  stupid  repose,  and  again  wake,  and 
labor,  and  eat,  and  be  again  exhausted,  till  sleep  be- 
comes the  first  wish  of  nature — and  meantime  the  mind 
lies  fallow,  or  is  overrun  with  weeds — the  immortal 
mind,  that  places  the  humblest  mechanic  on  a  level 
wdth  the  princes  of  the  earth,  and  gives  him  poAvers, 


188  ESrEQUALITIES   IN   WEALTH 

hopes,  and  lofty  enjoyments,  that  money  or  station 
cannot  secure,  and  that  poverty,  except  the  most  ab- 
ject, cannot  take  away.  * 

3.  But  the  most  effectual  alle\dation  of  the  evils 
attendant  upon  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth, 
is  to  be  anticipated  from  the  dissemination  of  the 
truths  of  the  Gosj)el.  Christianity  has  a  specific  ac- 
tion in  lessening  the  evil  complained  of;  for,  by  pro- 
moting industry,  sobriety,  integrit}',  and  all  the  habits 
that  advance  individual  prosperity,  it  lessens  the 
number  of  the  poor :  so  much  so,  that  in  a  community 
of  sincere,  devoted  Christians,  we  might  be  sure  that 
suffering  indigence  would  be  unknown.  It  could 
never  proceed  from  idleness  or  profligate  habits ;  and 
sickness  or  unavoidable  misfortunes  would  be  relieved 
as  soon  as  known.  But  besides  its  specific  action,  as 
we  may  term  it,  in  lessening  the  relative  lumbers  of 
the  rich  and  poor,  it  would  remove  all  the  painful  con- 
sequences of  these  distinctions.  For  teaching  clearly 
as  it  does,  that  this  world  is  only  a  preparation  for 
another  and  a  better,  and  that  in  reference  to  this 
great  purpose,  it  has  been  formed  and  fitted  to  be  a 
place  of  moral  discipline,  men  would  acquiesce  in  the 
wisdom  and  mercy  of  such  appointments.  If  blessed 
with  abundance,  they  would  use  it  as  stewards  of  God 
in  promoting  the  welfare  of  their  fellow-creatures ;  if 
suffering  comparative  privations,  they  would  derive 
from  them  the  discipline  of  patience  and  resignation. 
All  would  feel  assured  that  these  distinctions  are  to 

*  See  Note  C. 


TUE    OKDIFANCE    OF   GOD.  189 

terminate  here,  and  are  to  pass  away  with  sublunary 
things  ;  and  all  being,  therefore,  principally  anxious  to 
place  their  treasures  where  their  hearts  would  then 
be,  pride,  avarice,  and  luxury,  on  the  one  hand,  envy, 
fraud,  and  repining,  on  the  other,  would  be  done 
away.  Christianity  is  the  bountiful  dispenser  of  social 
blessings,  the  merciful  healer  of  social  evils.  Those, 
therefore,  who  are  laboring,  planning  and  contributing 
to  disseminate  the  truths  of  the  Gospel,  are  not  merely 
seeking  the  future  and  eternal  salvation  of  men,  though 
this  is  and  should  be  their  chief  object,  but  they  are 
carrying  into  effect  the  most  certain  and  efficient  plans 
for  improving  their  temporal  condition.  Christianity 
will  not  make  men  all  equally  rich,  or  equally  exalted 
in  station,  any  more  than  it  will  cause  a  perfect  re- 
semblance between  them  intellectually  and  physically  ; 
but  it  can,  and  it  will,  meliorate  the  evils  which  flow 
from  this  state  of  things,  because  these  evils,  after  all, 
are  not  inherent  in  the  circumstance  of  inequality  of 
condition,  but  in  the  temper  of  mind  with  which  men 
view  it,  and  submit  to  it.  Now  Christianity  was  de- 
signed expressly  to  operate  upon  this  temper,  to  renew 
and  to  purify  it,  to  give  it  spirituality,  and  to  endow 
it  with  virtues  for  time,  and  with  bright  hopes  and 
ample  preparations  for  eternity. 

In  submitting  the  subject,  thus  discussed,  to  my 
distinguished  and  respected  hearers,  I  have  the  satis- 
faction of  believing,  that  there  is  no  community  in 
which  the  important  principles  it  involves  will  be 
more  readily  understood  and  received.     And  may  I 


190  IlSrEQUALITIES    IN    WEALTH,    ETC. 

not,  in  conclusion,  be  permitted  to  express  my  convic- 
tion, that  there  is  no  portion  of  the  habitable  earth 
that  has  heretofore  more  happily  illustrated  the  benign 
operation  of  these  principles,  and  to  offer  up  my  fer- 
vent prayers,  that  they  may  never  be  invaded  or 
destroyed  by  misguided  benevolence,  unprincipled 
ambition,  or  the  headstrong  folly  of  political  factions. 


NOTES. 


NOTE  A,  P.  148. 
"Why  should  not  ministers  of  religion,  as  well  as  the  other 
members  of  the  community,  take  a  lively  interest  in  those 
studies  that  relate  to  civil  society,  and  unfold  the  principles 
upon  which  its  advancement  and  happiness  in  temporal  things 
mainly  depend  ?  But  not  to  the  jjliysical  condition  of  man 
does  the  science  of  Political  Economy,  properly  considered, 
have  sole  or  chief  reference  ;  his  moral  and  intellectual  im- 
provement is  deeply  involved  in  almost  every  discussion 
connected  with  it.  Moreover,  Christianity  is  eminently  the 
religion  of  civilized  man,  and  will  only  consent  to  live  and 
flourish  in  connection  with  civilization.  It  sets  in  motion  all 
the  elements  that  improve  the  social  condition,  and,  recipro- 
cally, is  itself  advanced  or  retarded  by  the  movements  of  the 
community  into  which  it  is  introduced.  To  be  convinced  of 
this,  one  need  only  read  the  admirable  arguments  and  illus- 
trations, that  the  intelligent  and  philanthropic  James  Doug- 
lass, of  Cavers  in  Scotland,  has  brought  forward ;  especially 
those  contained  in  his  little  work,  which  cannot  be  too  well 
known  or  too  generally  perused  among  Christians,  "  Hints  on 
Missions."  That  Political  Economy  is  a  science  in  a  high 
degree  interesting  and  valuable  to  the  philanthropist  and  the 
Christian,  as  well  as  to  the  politician,  is  now  felt  and  ac- 
knowledged by  some  of  the  most  pious  and  eminent  divines. 
The  distinguished  Dr.  Chalmers  has  given  it  his  serious  notice ; 
and  although  we  are  greatly  indebted  to  him  for  awakening 
attention  to  an  important  subject,  and  for  valuable  sngges- 
tions  in  his  "  Christian  and  Civic  Economy  of  Large  Towns," 
yet  we  cannot  think  that  he  has  treated  of  Political  Economy 
with  his  usual  discrimination  or  intellectual  power.  In  the 
Established  Church  of  the  sister  nation,  there  is  also  a  Divine 
justly  entitled  to  our  gratitude,  for  the  efficiency  with  which 


192  NOTES. 

he  has  directed  liis  powerful  and  sagacious  mind  to  this  field 
of  intellectual  labor.  I  refer  to  the  present  Archbishop  of 
Dublin,  Dr.  Whatelj.  His  Lectures  on  Political  Economy 
while  Professor  of  this  department  in  the  University  of  Ox- 
ford, are  admirable,  and  well  deserve  to  be  more  generally 
known  in  this  country.  So  impressed  was  he  with  the  im- 
portance of  the  subject,  which  he  understood  so  well,  and 
had  written  upon  in  so  luminous  a  manner,  that  immediately 
after  being  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Irish  Church,  one  of 
his  first  acts  was  to  establish  in  the  University  of  Dublin,  at 
his  own  charge,  a  Professorship  of  Political  Economy.  The 
first  fruits  of  this  act  of  truly  enlarged  and  Christian  benevo- 
lence, we  have  just  received  in  the  lectures  of  Professor 
Longfield. 

In  the  preface  to  his  Lectures  on  Political  Economy,  Pro- 
fessor Whately  avows,  that  his  chief  inducement  to  off'er 
himself  as  a  candidate  for  this  chair  in  the  University,  and 
his  first  object  in  his  course  of  Introductory  Lectures,  were  to 
remove  the  prejudices  against  Political  Economy  existing  in 
the  minds  of  some  persons  as  being  inimical  to  religion.  "  It 
has  been  my  first  object,"  says  he,  "  to  combat  the  prevailing 
prejudices  against  the  study;  and  especially  those  which 
represent  it  as  unfavorable  to  religion.  Convinced  as  I  am 
that  the  world,  as  it  always  in  fact  has  been  governed  by 
political  economists  of  some  kind,  must  ultimately  be  under 
the  guidance  of  such  as  have  systematically  applied  them- 
selves to  the  science,  I  could  not  but  regard  it  as  a  point  of 
primary  importance,  to  remove  the  impression  existing  in  the 
minds  of  many,  both  of  the  friends  and  the  adversaries  of 
Christianity,  as  to  the  hostility  between  that  and  the  conclu- 
sions of  Political  Economy."  This  object,  in  my  humble 
opinion,  he  has  accomplished  in  a  most  able  and  triumphant 
manner,  and  I  most  sincerely  wish  that  some  enterprising 
publisher  would  confer  a  favor  on  the  American  public,  by 
putting  forth  an  edition  of  his  interesting  and  instructive 
lectures.  While  suggesting  this,  two  other  works  occur  to 
my  mind  as  having  the  same  tendency,  and  as  deserving  far 
greater  attention  than  they  can  receive,  while  only  to  be 
obtained  in  the  few  and  expensive  copies  of  the  English 


NOTES.  193 

editions  whicli  have  reacned  this  coiuitiy.  I  refer  to  the 
"  Progress  of  Society,"  by  the  hate  Professor  Hamilton  of 
Marischal  College  and  University  of  Aberdeen.  Although 
written  in  reference  to  a  state  of  society  very  different  from 
our  own,  yet  the  principles  it  discusses,  and  the  information  it 
gives  in  many  points,  are  of  universal  application.  The 
other  work  is  "  A  treatise  on  the  Kecords  of  the  Creation, 
and  on  the  moral  attributes  of  the  Creator,  with  particular 
reference  to  the  Jewish  History,  and  to  the  consistency  of 
the  principle  of  population  with  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  the  Deity.  By  John  Bird  Sumner,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of 
Chester," — a  learned,  ingenious,  and  eloquent  treatise.  I 
cannot  doubt  but  that  these  works  would  repay  the  cost  of 
their  republication,  and  I  feel  assured  that  they  would  amply 
reward  the  attention  given  to  them  by  those  who  are  inter- 
ested in  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat. 

NOTE  B,  P.  153. 

I  do  not  think  that  I  overrate  the  value  of  this  science, 
when  I  place  it  not  least  amongst  the  means  by  which  the 
human  race  is  to  be  made  wiser,  better,  and  happier.  Tlie 
bettering  the  condition  of  man  is  the  very  object  to  which  it 
directs  all  its  investigations,  and  if  some  of  these  appear  at 
first  view  to  be  exclusively  devoted  to  his  temporal  and 
perishing  state  of  being,  yet  followed  out  into  their  legitimate 
connections  and  dependencies,  they  will  be  found  to  bear 
closely  upon  his  intellectual  and  immortal  nature.  My 
learned  and  much  valued  friend.  Professor  McYickar,  of  Co- 
lumbia College,  N.  Y.,  in  his  concluding  remarks  to  his  re- 
publication of  McCulloch's  Outlines  of  Political  Economy, 
adopts  this  forcible  language,  in  which  I  entirely  coincide : 
"  Without  incurring  the  charge  of  enthusiasm,  it  may  be 
maintained  to  be  the  redeeming  science  of  modern  times — 
the  regenerating  principle  that,  in  connection  with  the  spirit 
of  Christianity,  is  at  work  in  the  civilized  governments  of 
the  world,  not  to  revolutionize,  but  to  reform.  It  is  to  states 
what  religion  is  to  individuals,  the  '  preacher  of  righteous- 
ness,'— what  religion  reproves  as  wrong.  Political  Economy 
rejects  as  inexpedient — what  religion  condemns  as  contrary 
13 


194  NOTES. 

to  duty  and  virtue,  Political  Economy  proves  to  be  equally 
opposed  to  the  peace,  good  order,  and  permanent  prosperity 
of  the  commnnity,"  Should  not  such  a  science  he  made 
more  universally  the  subject  of  attention  ?  Should  not  its 
rudiments  be  taught  in  our  schools,  and  its  higher  principles 
in  our  Colleges  ?  And  yet  how  is  it  neglected  in  both  !  Kot 
universally  in  our  Colleges — in  Columbia  College,  N.  Y.,  it 
has  been  long  and  ably  taught.  It  is  a  prominent  part  of  the 
course  of  instruction  in  "Washington  College,  Hartford,  and 
very  possibly  in  other  of  our  higher  seminaries  of  learning, 
although  I  am  not  informed  upon  this  point.  But  what  has 
been  done,  and  is  doing  for  it,  in  our  own  favored  and  be- 
loved University  ?  If  in  this  particular  department  there  is 
not  an  adequate  endowment  to  support  regular  instruction  in 
so  important  a  science,  surely  there  cannot  be  wanting  the 
means,  in  our  intelligent  and  noble-spirited  community,  to 
accomplish  this  object.  Deepl^y  interested  as  merchants, 
manufacturers,  agriculturalists,  capitalists  are,  in  having  cor- 
rect views  upon  their  various  interests  distributed  throughout 
the  community,  will  they  not  all  cheerfully  aid  in  maintain- 
ing a  system  of  instruction  which  shall  effect  this  purpose  ? 
"Where  can  this  better  be  done  than  within  the  venerable 
walls  of  Harvard  ? 

"  I  trust,"  says  Professor  Whately,  "  that  while  due  en- 
couragement shall  still  be  afforded  to  those  more  strictly 
professional  studies  Avhich  conduce  to  the  professional  ad- 
vancement in  life  of  each  individual.  Political  Economy  will, 
ere  long,  be  enrolled  in  the  list  of  those  branches  of  know- 
ledge which  more  particularly  demand  the  attention  of  an 
endowed  University.  The  time  is  not,  I  trust,  far  distant, 
when  it  will  be  regarded  as  discreditable  not  to  have  regu- 
larly studied  those  subjects  respecting  which,  even  now,  every 
one  is  expected  to  feel  an  interest,  most  are  ready  to  adopt 
opinions,  and  many  are  called  on  to  form  practical  decisions." 
The  suggestion  is  as  imj)ortant  to  enlightened  and  liberal- 
minded  23ersons  here,  as  to  those  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  Let  us  not  be  behindhand  in  availing  ourselves 
of  it. 

Great,  and  doubtless  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  well- 


NOTES.  195 

founded  prejudice  has  been  excited  against  Political  Economy, 
in  consequence  of  the  conflicting  theories  that  have  been 
advanced  in  regard  to  its  fundamental  principles,  and  the 
dull,  confused,  pedantic,  and  often  mystical  way  in  which  it 
has  been  treated.  There  are  very  many  j)ractical  men  who 
are  even  now  too  apt  to  regard  it  as  a  system  of  solemn 
quackery.  And  when  we  see  some  of  them,  as  we  do  occa- 
sionally in  conversation,  and  in  the  debates  of  our  legislative 
assemblies,  come  directly  at  sound  conclusions  by  a  process 
of  simple,  direct,  and  forcible  argument,  without  any  know- 
ledge of  a  word  that  has  been  written  in  books  concerning 
exchanges,  value,  price,  wages,  caj^ital,  &c.,  we  can  hardly 
be  surprised  at  such  an  impression  gaining  ground,  unfor- 
tunate and  mistaken  though  it  be.  But  such  occurrences  are 
no  more  valid  as  an  argument  against  pursuing  Political 
Economy  as  a  science,  than  the  fact  that  such  men  as  Frank- 
lin have  made  great  discoveries  in  physical  science,  without 
the  regular  mental  discipline  of  the  schools,  is  an  argument 
against  having  Professorships  of  Mathematics  and  Natural 
and  Experimental  Philosophy  in  our  Colleges.  All  they 
prove  is,  that  now  and  then  men  of  powerful  and  discrimi- 
nating minds  rise  up,  who  can  do  more  without  the  aid  of 
systematic  education,  than  the  common  order  of  men  can  do 
with  it.  But  education  has  a  tendency  to  remove  the  ine- 
quality 23roduced  by  variety  of  natural  endowments,  and 
therefore  it  is  just,  as  well  as  benevolent,  to  promote  it. 

No  one  has  yet  mastered  the  science  of  Political  Economy. 
It  is  probably  the  most  difficult  and  complex  of  all  the  moral 
sciences,  and  when  some  gifted  mind  shall  disencumber  it  of 
paradoxes,  ambiguous  phraseology,  and  subtle  and  unprofit- 
able questions,  and  shall  exhibit  its  fundamental  principles 
in  clear  and  bold  relief,  it  will  be  discovered  that  it  is,  at  the 
least,  as  interesting  and  important  as  any  one  of  them,  and 
perhaps  the  best  calculated  of  all,  to  give  to  the  mind  that 
discipline  which  shall  render  it  discriminating,  practical,  and 
eflicient  in  conducting  the  transactions  of  real  life. 

Teachers  in  this  department,  and  their  books,  are  fast  im- 
proving :  witness  the  ones  referred  to  in  the  preceding  note. 
And  let  it  not  be  regarded  as  the  prejudice  of  friendshij)  that 


196  NOTES. 

would  speak  in  terms  of  unqualified  praise  of  the  style  of 
writing,  and  tlie  method  of  argument  and  illustration  as  ex- 
hibited upon  the  subject  in  the  "Manual  of  Political  Econ- 
omy, by  Willard  Phillips,"  without,  however,  choosing  to  be 
responsible  for  any  opinion  upon  the  conclusions  to  which 
this  author  arrives  on  some  disputed  points.  The  treatise 
itself,  though  obviously  the  fruit  of  extensive  reading  and 
profound  thought,  has  less  of  the  parade  of  learning,  and  the 
confusion  arising  from  a  careless  use  of  language,  and  more 
of  condensed  and  valuable  information  relating  to  the  subject, 
in  connection  with  our  own  country,  than  any  that  has  yet 
appeared, 

NOTE  C,  p.  188. 

Ui3on  the  important  subject  of  wages,  laborers,  and  their 
condition,  see  Chap.  YIL  of  Phillips'  Manual  of  Political 
Economy,  replete  with  judicious  and  philanthropic  sugges- 
tions. Especially  see  the  eloquent  passage  p.  151.  Laborers 
should  le  able  to  save. 


THE  CONFESSING  OR  DENYING  OF  CHRIST. 


Matthew  x.  32,  33. 

"Whosoever  therefore  shall  confess  me  before  men,  him  will  I  confess 
also  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  But  whosoever  shall  deny 
me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

It  requires  no  argument  to  prove  that  these  condi- 
tions are  conformable  with  the  strictest  justice.  The 
simple  statement  of  them  is  sufficient  to  carry  a  con- 
viction of  their  perfect  equity  to  every  unprejudiced 
understanding.  If  we  confess  our  Saviour  before  men, 
that  is,  acknowledge  him  both  by  profession  and  prac- 
tice to  be  our  Lord  and  Master,  he  also  will  acknow- 
ledge us  before  his  Father  to  be  his  servants  and  dis- 
ciples. If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  deny  him  before  men, 
that  is,  reject  his  religion,  and  live  as  though  we  were 
ignorant  of  its  doctrines  and  precepts,  he  also,  at  the 
last  day,  will  declare  unto  us,  "  I  never  knew  you,  depart 
from  me  ye  workers  of  iniquity."    No  one  can  presume 


198         THE    CONFESSING   OR   DENTING   OF   CHEIST. 

to  say  tliat  it  is  either  unjust  or  unreasonable  to  make 
tlie  favor  with  whicli  our  Saviour  will  hereafter  regard 
us,  to  depend  upon  the  respect  we  have  manifested  for 
him  here  on  earth. 

At  the  time  when  this  declaration  was  made,  both 
the  hazard  of  confessing  Christ,  and  the  temptations  to 
deny  him,  were  far  greater  than  they  are  at  present. 
The  priests  and  rulers  of  the  Jews  were  leagued  to- 
gether l)y  bonds  of  the  most  obstinate  prejudice  to 
oppose  the  spread  of  the  Gospel.  And  beside  this 
opposition  the  Apostles  had  to  contend  with  the  vices, 
the  passions,  and  the  long  cherished  customs  of  an 
ignorant  multitude. 

When  therefore  our  Saviour  gave  them  their  first 
commission  to  go  and  preach  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
he  foi'ewarned  them  of  the  difficulties  they  would  have 
to  encounter.  They  were  sent  forth  as  sheep  amongst 
wolves  ;  they  were  told  that  they  would  be  delivered 
up  to  councils,  and  be  scourged  in  synagogues,  and  that 
they  would  be  hated  of  all  men  for  the  sake  of  their 
Master.  To  strengthen  them  for  all  these  trials,  and 
to  prepare  them  to  encounter  manfully  all  this  oppo- 
sition, amongst  other  arguments  that  are  offered  to 
them,  is  the  one  contained  in  the  text.  It  has  not,  it 
is  true,  precisely  the  same  application  to  us  Christians 
of  the  present  day,  that  it  had  to  the  first  professors 
of  the  Gospel,  because  we  are  not  a  small  and  feeble 
band  appointed  to  sustain  a  new  system  of  faith  in  the 
midst  of  numerous,  powerful,  and  exasperated  oppo- 
nents ;  nor  to  bear  testimony  to  its  truth  before  rulers 


THE   COISTESSING   OR   DENYING    OF   CHRIST.         199 

and  kings,  at  the  hazard  of  temporal  prosperity,  and 
even  of  life  itself  But  still  we  must  know  that  there 
is  a  distinctly  defined,  and  an  urgent  duty  implied  in 
confessing  Christ  before  men,  and  a  grievous  sin  in 
denying  him  ;  and  that  the  reward  promised  to  the 
one  course  of  conduct,  and  the  penalty  denounced 
against  the  other,  are  still  held  forth  for  our  encourage- 
ment and  warning. 

To  explain,  therefore,  what  is  meant  by  our  con- 
fessing and  denying  Christ  before  men,  and  by  his 
confessing  or  denjdng  us  before  his  Father,  is  the 
object  of  this  discourse. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  obvious,  that  to  con- 
fess Christ  implies  an  avowed  belief  in  the  truth  of 
Divine  revelation.  To  acknowledge  him  merely  as  a 
teacher  of  a  pure  morality,  and  to  esteem  his  rehgion 
only  as  a  system  well  calculated  to  j)romote  the  peace 
and  good  order  of  society,  is  not  sufficient.  By  giving 
to  the  phrase  as  limited  an  interpretation  as  this,  we 
may,  with  equal  propriety,  be  said  to  confess  any  un- 
inspired teacher  of  moral  or  political  truth.  But  by 
confessing  Christ,  we  must  understand  avowing  a  belief 
in  his  divine  mission,  that  he  is  not  only  a  teacher,  but 
a  teacher  speaking  with  direct  authority  from  God,  and 
that  the  religion  which  he  and  his  Apostles  estabhshed 
was  not  the  product  of  human  wisdom  and  ingenuity, 
but  was  given  to  the  world  by  the  special  agency  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  And  are  we  required  to  assent  to  all 
this  uj^on  human  authority  alone,  and  to  receive  men 
as  religious  instructors  commissioned  from  on  high,  be- 


200         THE    CONFESSING    OR   DENYINa   OF   CHEIST. 

cause  they  lay  claim  to  Divine  inspiration  ?  By  no 
means.  Tlie  religion  of  Christ,  as  it  is  addressed  to 
reasonable  men,  so  does  it  carry  with  it  proofs  of  its 
heavenly  origin,  designed  and  adapted  to  satisfy  reason. 
Our  Saviour  and  his  Apostles  never  demanded  of  those 
to  whom  they  spoke,  an  assent  to  their  doctrines 
merely  upon  the  strength  of  their  assertions.  They 
uniformly  appealed  to  the  evidence  of  prophecy  and 
miracles.  "  Believe  me,"  says  our  Saviour  himself,  "  for 
the  very  works'  sake."  "The  works  that  I  do  bear  wit- 
ness of  me."  The  Apostles,  too,  when  they  preached 
the  kingdom  of  God,  rested  not  upon  their  own  unsup- 
ported declarations  ;  but  God  bare  them  witness,  both 
with  siofns  and  wonders,  and  with  divers  miracles,  and 
gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  at  the  present  day,  the 
proofs  of  Divine  revelation  challenge  the  most  rigid 
scrutiny.  No  one  is  called  upon  to  confess  Christ  but 
upon  full  conviction  of  his  Divine  character  and  au- 
thority. No  one  is  ever  asked  to  sacrifice  his  reason 
or  common  sense  upon  the  altar  of  revelation.  The 
Gospel  contains  within  itself  full  and  powerful  evidence 
for  the  sincere  inquirer  after  truth,  that  it  is  indeed  the 
gift  of  God  to  man,  and  he  who  in  a  candid  and  hum- 
ble temper  of  mind  directs  his  attention  to  the  inves- 
tigation, cannot  well  conclude  it  without  arriving  at  a 
solemn  conviction  that  it  is  his  duty  to  confess  Christ 
before  men. 

II.  Secondly,  in  addition  to  an  avowed  belief  in  the 
truth  of  Di\ane  revelation,  confession  of  Christ  implies 
an  acceptance  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  which  that  reve- 


THE   CONFESSING   OE   DENTINa    OF   CHKIST.         201 

lation  teaclies.  If  it  were  necessary,  in  order  to  the  sal- 
vation of  man,  that  God  slionld  send  his  Sou  into  the 
world,  and  if  j^art  of  our  Saviour's  office,  while  on  earth, 
was  to  instruct  mankind  in  religious  truths,  it  will 
follow,  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  these 
truths  should  be  known  and  professed.  The  question 
then  obviously  arises,  what  are  these  truths  ?  But  in 
replying  to  this  there  is  apparently  a  serious  difficulty 
to  encounter.  We  see  tliat  tke  same  inspired  volume,  in 
tlie  hands  of  different  men,  is  made  to  speak  not  only 
different  but  sometimes  opposite  doctrines.  How  then 
are  we  to  decide  whicli  are  they  who  scripturally  and 
truly  confess  Christ  ?  I  reply — from  the  Scriptures 
themselves.  Leaving  the  streams  whicli  have  been 
rendered  turbid  by  the  angry  contests  of  men,  we  must 
take  our  draught  of  religious  trutli  from  the  pure  and 
unpolluted  fountain.  It  is  to  the  Scriptures  that  our 
lioly  Churck  directs  us  to  appeal  in  aU  matters  of  re- 
ligious controversy ;  and  in  that  admirable  summary 
of  Christianity,  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  she  teUs  ker 
children  that  "  Holy  Scripture  containetk  all  tkings 
necessary  to  salvation,  so  that  whatsoever  is  not  read 
therein,  nor  may  be  proved  thereby,  is  not  to  be  re- 
quired of  any  man  that  it  should  be  believed  as  an 
article  of  the  faitk,  or  be  thought  requisite  or  necessary 
to  salvation."  Still  it  may  l)e  said  that  tke  difficulty 
is  not  removed,  because  all  the  various  denominations 
of  Christians  aj^peal  to  tke  Scriptures  in  supj^ort  of 
tkeir  peculiar  opinions.  Tkose  even  wko  deny  tke 
divinity  of  our  Saviour,  and  tke  atonement,  and  tke 


202       THE  co]srrESsnf&  oe  DEXYLNa  of  christ. 

personality  and  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  do  it 
upon  tlie  ground  tliat  they  cannot  discover  these  doc- 
trines in  Holy  Writ.  Now,  whether  at  any  future 
period  the  whole  world  is  to  be  brought  to  consen- 
taneous views  of  Gospel  faith,  we  cannot  decide.  But 
that  conflicting  opinions  will  for  a  long  course  of  years 
be  maintained,  and  that  grievous  heresies  even  will 
prevail  amongst  those  who  name  themselves  by  the 
name  of  Christ,  we  are  positively  assured  by  the  Scrip- 
tures. St.  Paul  says,  "There  must  be  also  heresies 
among  you,  that  they  which  are  approved  may  be 
made  manifest  among  you."  He  speaks  of  some  who 
by  denying  the  resurrection,  had  even  made  shipwreck 
of  their  own  faith.  St.  Peter  forewarns  Christians, 
that  in  the  last  days  there  will  come  scoffers  walking 
after  their  own  lusts,  and  saying,  where  is  the  promise 
of  Christ's  coming  to  judge  the  world  ? 

We  are  not  to  be  surprised,  therefore,  that  the 
peculiar  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  are  now  sometimes 
disputed  and  disbelieved.  But  we  are  to  be  careful 
to  avoid  the  errors  into  which  many  have  fallen  by  a 
too  bold  reliance  upon  human  reason,  in  investigating 
questions  of  simj^le  faith  which  were  never  designed 
to  be  embraced  by  it.  The  intellectual  powers  are  to 
be  exercised  in  examining  the  proofs  of  revelation  and 
interpreting  the  language  of  the  Scrij)tures  to  show 
what  they  teach ;  this  done,  the  office  of  the  reasoning 
faculty  ends,  and  faith  comes  in,  faith  sustained  and 
sanctified  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  perfect  the  work  in 
the  conviction  and  conversion   of  the   sinner.       As, 


THE   CONFESSESTG    OE   DEISTING    OF   CHEIST.         203 

however,  but  few  out  of  the  great  nnmber  to  whom 
the  Gospel  is  to  be  offered,  can  possess  the  ability  or 
find  the  opportunity  to  investigate  its  exddences,  and 
to  examine  its  doctrines,  Jesus  Christ  established  his 
Church  on  the  earth,  as  the  sacred  depository  and 
authorized  interpreter  of  all  doctrinal  truth.  The 
Church  is  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth,  and  all 
must  hear  and  obey  the  Church,  even  as  though  Christ 
himself  spoke.  With  respect,  therefore,  to  the  ques- 
tion what  are  the  essential  and  immutable  doctrines 
of  Chiistianity,  the  Church  in  her  Liturgy,  Articles, 
and  Homilies,  answers  it  fully  and  clearly.  These  are 
the  doctrines  which  have  been  maintained  from  the 
Apostles'  days  till  now,  which  the  great  body  of  the 
Christian  world  has  every  where  and  at  all  times  pro- 
fessed, and  in  defence  of  which  multitudes  of  pious 
and  learned  men  have  stood  forth,  and  the  noble  army 
of  martyrs  have  shed  then-  blood.  No  one,  then,  who 
receives  these  doctrines,  need  fear  that  he  confesses 
what  essentially  belongs  to  Christianity. 

But  by  this  declaration  are  we  attempting  to  stop 
investigation  by  the  power  of  authority  ?  By  no 
means.  Let  no  one  who  has  God's  Word  to  refer  to, 
and  who  has  the  ability  and  the  time  requisite  for  the 
inquiry,  adopt  without  examination,  the  expositions  of 
men,  learned  and  pious  though  they  be.  Bring  every 
opinion,  every  doctrine,  every  practice,  to  the  touch- 
stone of  Scripture  ;  so  far  as  it  be  genuine,  receive ;  so 
far  as  it  be  false,  reject  it.  Neither  learning,  nor 
piety,  nor  antiquity,  can  sanctify  a  false  faith,  or  an 


204         THE   CONFESSING   OR   DENYINa   OF   CHEIST. 

ungodly  practice.  Althougli  we  contend  tliat  tlie 
doctrine,  and  discipline,  and  worship,  of  our  Church 
are  pure,  and  excellent,  and  true,  it  is  not  because  the 
fabric  has  been  reared  up  by  men  of  old  time,  nor 
because  the  structure  has  been  a^^proved  by  the  wise 
and  good  of  the  earth,  but  because  it  has  been  framed 
by  Apostles  and  Prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being 
the  chief  corner  stone. 

III.  In  the  third  place,  confessing  Christ  before 
men  im2:)lies  a  conformity  of  life  and  character  with 
the  rules  which  he  prescribed,  and  with  the  example 
by  which  he  illustrated  them  to  the  world.  Of  what 
value  is  the  most  orthodox  faith,  if  it  be  contradicted 
by  an  irreligious  life  ?  What  will  it  avail  us  to  cry 
Lord,  Lord,  that  is,  acknowledge  Christ  to  be  our  Mas- 
ter, if  we  do  not  the  things  which  he  says  ?  We  read 
of  those  who  profess  that  they  know  God,  but  in  works 
deny  hun,  being  abominable  and  disobedient  and  unto 
every  good  work  reprobate.  Indeed,  the  most  accep- 
table way  in  which  we  can  confess  Christ,  is  to  live 
the  life  which  he  requires  in  the  Gospel.  By  some  it 
may  be  thought  that  correctness  of  belief  will,  in  some 
measure,  atone  for  viciousness  of  life.  But  this  is  a 
most  pernicious  and  false  opinion.  On  the  contrary, 
the  greater  the  extent  of  any  one's  religious  knowledge 
the  stronger  becomes  his  obligation  to  religious  obe- 
dience ;  and  he  who  professes  to  believe  what  Christ 
taught,  is  under  the  more  solemn  obligation  to  do 
what  he  commanded.  He,  then,  who  w^ould  confess 
Christ  before  men,  must,  in  every  thing,  walk  as  be- 


THE   CONFESSIlSrG    OE   DEISTTESTG    OF    CHRIST.         205 

comes  his  discij^le.  He  must  show  by  the  uniform 
influence  of  religion  upon  his  character,  that  he  is  at 
heart,  what  he  professes  to  be  with  his  mouth.  The 
Apostle  supposed  it  possible  that  a  man  might  give  all 
his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  yet  not  have  charity. 
On  the  same  principle,  a  man  may  profess  all  the  truths 
contained  in  the  Bible,  and  yet  be  no  more  of  a  Chris- 
tian, than  the  poor  heathen  into  whose  ears  the  word 
of  revelation  never  entered.  The  true  Christian  is  he 
who  lives  the  life  he  now  lives  in  the  flesh  by  faith  in 
the  Son  of  God ;  that  is,  whose  faith  is  not  a  mere  spec- 
ulative opinion,  coldly  resting  in  the  understanding, 
but  an  active  and  efficient  principle,  exerting  a  well 
marked  influence  over  the  conduct  of  every  day  and 
every  hour. 

As  the  moral  precej^ts  of  the  Gospel  will  be  uni- 
formly observed  by  him  who  truly  confesses  Christ,  so 
also  will  a  sacred  respect  be  j)aid  to  all  its  ordinances. 
By  the  very  act  of  appointing  them,  our  Saviour  has 
shown  that  they  are  important,  and  that  his  disci- 
ples are  under  a  constant  obligation  to  observe  them. 
The  stated  worship  of  God,  and  the  holy  sacraments 
of  Baptism,  and  the  Supper  of  the  Lord,  should  be  as- 
siduously attended  to  by  all  who  sincerely  desire  to 
confess  Christ.  As  these  are  means  expressly  appoint- 
ed by  him  to  keep  alive  the  vital  warmth  of  piety  in 
our  hearts,  how  can  we  neglect  them  if  we  feel  any  in- 
terest in  this  great  object  ? 

A  neglect  of  the  ordinances  of  Christianity,  and 
especially  of  the  Eucharist,  may  proceed  either  from 


206         THE   COKFESSIISTG   OE   DEISTYLNG   OF   CHEIST. 

timidity  or  indifference.  If  from  timidity,  and  a  pain- 
ful sense  of  unworthiness, — to  persons  so  affected,  we 
address  the  language  of  entreaty  and  encouragement. 
Come  forward,  and  confess  Christ  in  the  way  of  his 
own  appointment.  He  is  not  an  unreasonable  or  a 
hard  Master  whom  you  serve.  If  in  humility  and  faith 
you  approach  his  holy  table,  doubt  not  of  your  accept- 
ance as  welcome  guests.  Discharge  your  duty,  a  posi- 
tive and  commanded  duty,  and  trust  to  him  for  a 
favorable  result  in  your  own  spiritual  comfort  and 
growth  in  grace.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  neglect  of 
the  Lord's  Supper  proceed  from  indifference,  it  must 
certainly  be  regarded  as  a  practical  denial  of  the  im- 
portance of  this  ordinance,  and  also  a  contempt  for  his 
authority  by  whom  it  was  appointed.  Such  persons 
cannot  be  said  to  confess  Christ  before  men, — ^they 
openly  deny  him  whenever  they  turn  from  the  table 
here  spread  for  all,  and  to  which  all  ai'e  freely  and 
affectionately  invited. 

In  connection  with  what  has  thus  been  said  about 
confessing  Christ,  the  text  naturally  leads  us  to  state 
what  is  meant  by  denying  him.  But  httle,  however, 
need  be  said  upon  this  part  of  our  subject ;  for  it  must 
be  obvious  that,  by  denying  Christ,  we  are  to  under- 
stand the  converse  of  what  has  already  been  sj^oken. 
It  is  to  reject  Divine  revelation,  to  refuse  our  assent  to 
the  peculiar  and  essential  doctrines  of  the  Gogpel,  and 
to  live  in  disobedience  to  the  commands  of  God,  as  re- 
corded in  his  inspired  Word.  It  is  not  merely  he  who 
disbelieves  that   God  has   ever   spoken  by   inspired 


THE   COISTESSD^G    OR   DENYING   OF   CHRIST.         207 

Propliets,  and  in  tliese  last  days  by  his  Son, — or,  he 
who  refuses  to  give  the  Son  the  honors  that  are  his 
due, — or,  he  that  in  proud  reliance  upon  human  reason 
rejects  what  is  taught  in  revelation,  if  it  does  not  ac- 
cord with  his  own  opinions,  that  is  to  be  charged 
with  denying  Christ.  But  he  falls  under  this  heavy 
accusation  whose  life  is  at  variance  with  the  Gospel ; 
who  gives  e\ddence  that  the  obligations  of  Christian 
purity,  temperance,  self-denial,  meekness,  benevolence, 
love,  exert  but  a  slight  influence  upon  his  character 
and  conduct ;  and  who  shows  that  the  ordinances  of 
the  Gospel  command  so  little  of  his  respect  or  atten- 
tion, that  he  will  not  sacrifice  to  them  worldly  occupa- 
tion, convenience,  or  pleasure.  All  this  is  denying 
Christ  by  actions  which  speak  louder  than  words. 
Professions  of  love  for  Christ  and  respect  for  his  re- 
ligion, may  be  lond  and  frequent,  but  in  themselves 
they  are  light  and  worthless  as  the  chaff.  It  is  the 
fruit  that  discloses  the  value  of  the  tree ;  it  is  the  prac- 
tice that  shows  the  sincerity  of  the  faith ;  it  is  the  pure 
and  exemplary  life  which  proves  that  religion  dwells 
in  the  heart ;  it  is  the  beauty  of  holiness  in  practice  as 
well  as  doctrine,  that  is  the  valuable  and  accej^table 
confession  of  Christ  before  men. 

I  must  now  direct  your  attention,  for  a  brief  space 
of  time,  to  the  reward  and  penalty  attached  to  the 
opposite  courses  of  conduct,  I  have  thus  marked  out 
in  general  terms.  Most  consoling  and  animating  is  the 
promise  made  to  those  who  shall  confess  Christ  before 
men.     Most  awful  the  punishment  denounced  against 


208         THE   CONFESSESTG   OE   DENYING   OF  CHRIST. 

those  wlio  shall,  in  this  world,  deny  their  Lord.  The 
former,  he  also  will  confess  before  his  Father  which  is 
in  heaven ;  and  the  latter,  he  will  deny.  Carry  your- 
selves forward,  my  brethren,  to  that  gi-eat  and  momen- 
tous day,  when  the  dead  shall  be  summoned  to  final 
judgment ;  when  the  rich  with  the  poor,  the  mighty 
with  the  abject,  the  learned  with  the  ignorant,  the 
trembling  and  appalled  sinner,  with  the  saint  resting 
in  humble  confidence  upon  faith  and  hope,  shall  be 
called  upon  to  render  up  an  account  of  the  deeds  done 
in  the  body ;  when  the  book  of  the  law,  with  all  its 
terrors,  and  the  book  of  record,  with  its  strict  account 
of  human  offences,  shall  be  laid  open  before  the  eternal 
judge.  What  will  support  you  in  that  day,  and  upon 
whom  will  you  depend  for  deliverance  ?  Upon  your- 
selves? And  have  any  of  you  a  pure  and  spotless 
character  to  present  before  the  God  of  purity  ?  And 
have  you,  in  your  own  possession  and  in  your  own 
right,  the  garment  of  righteousness  with  which  you 
must  be  clothed,  before  you  can  find  admittance  to  the 
marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb  ?  Have  you  no  offences 
against  God  or  man,  which  conscience  will  then  sum- 
mon up  to  cover  you  with  shame  and  confusion  of 
face  ?  Will  the  page  of  record,  as  relates  to  you,  be 
found  white  and  unblotted?  And  do  you  feel  that 
you  can  thus  lay  claim  to  your  own  merits  as  a  title 
to  the  everlasting  joys  of  your  Lord  ? 

Alas,  wretched  beings !  whatever  may  be  our  state 
of  security  and  presumption  now,  we  shall  then  find  to 
our  dismay,  that  we  are  sinful  and  impure ;  that  our 


THE   CONFESSING   OR   DENTHSTG   OF  CHRIST.         209 

self-righteousness  is  a  garment  torn  and  soiled ;  that 
our  names,  if  not  blotted  from  tlie  Book  of  Life,  are 
yet  charged  with  many  and  grievous  ofPences ;  that  our 
own  merits,  when  weighed  in  the  balances  of  eternal 
justice,  will  be  found  utterly  wanting.  Where,  then, 
shall  we  look  for  deliverance  ?  Upon  whom  shall  we 
call  to  remove  from  us  the  burden  of  our  offences  ? 
Of  whom  shall  we  entreat,  that  our  delinquencies  may 
be  covered  by  the  mantle  of  his  righteousness  ?  We 
are  forewarned  and  directed  in  whom  to  trust  at  that 
awful  day.  Christ  hath  loved  us  and  given  himself 
for  us.  He  who  knew  no  sin  was  made  to  be  sin  for 
us,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  him.  He  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in 
his  own  blood;  and  there  is  no  other  name  under 
heaven  given  among  men,  whereby  we  may  be  saved. 
Upon  him  then,  upon  our  blessed  Saviour,  we  must 
depend  ;  and  in  his  merits  we  must  put  our  trust. 

But  if  we  have  denied  him  upon  earth  ;  if  we  have 
rejected  his  Gospel;  or  if,  while  professing  a  belief  in 
it,  we  have  brought  discredit  upon  it  by  our  lives ; 
what  are  we  to  anticipate  ?  Can  we  suppose  that  his 
arm  will  then  be  extended  for  our  relief;  that  arm  in 
whose  strength  we  placed  no  trust  while  we  were  upon 
earth  ?  Can  we,  with  any  confidence,  beseech  him  to 
exercise  his  mediatorial  power  in  our  favour,  and  inter- 
cede for  us  before  his  Father's  throne,  when  we  have 
sHghted  and  disregarded  his  character  as  Mediator  and 
Intercessor  ?  Can  we  expect  to  be  washed  clean  by 
the  purifying  efficacy  of  that  bloody  which,  on  earth, 
14 


210         THE    CONFESSING    OE   DENTESTG   OF  CHEIST. 

we  trampled  under  foot,  and  accounted  an  unholy 
tMng  ?  Can  we  expect  to  find  an  interest  in  his  merits 
before  tlie  tribunal  of  God,  whom  we  bave  habitually 
denied  before  men  ?  No :  most  assuredly  no.  Every 
principle  of  reason  and  justice  contradicts  such  a  sup- 
position. Revelation  exclaims  with  a  louder  voice,  and 
says,  in  the  words  of  our  Saviour  himself — "  Whoso- 
ever shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny 
before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  Who  can 
endure  the  terrors  of  that  day ;  discarded,  disowned, 
rejected  by  Christ  ?  Who  can  stand  before  the  awful 
frown  of  an  offended  God  and  Judge  ?  Who  can  bear 
that  withering  denunciation — "  I  never  knew  you ;  de- 
part from  me,  ye  cursed  ? " 

But  this  appalling  condemnation  you  can  now  es- 
cape. You  can  now  secure  that  that  face  which  will  be 
hidden  in  clouds  of  anger  from  the  wicked,  shall  beam 
with  peace,  and  joy,  and  consolation,  upon  you;  and 
that  voice  which  will  thunder  terror  against  the  profli- 
gate rejectors  of  the  Gospel,  shall  speak  to  you  with  the 
cheering  accents  of  mercy  and  forgiveness.  "Whoso- 
ever shall  confess  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  con- 
fess before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

Blessed  Saviour !  grant  us  the  grace  now  to  accept 
these  thy  reasonable  conditions ;  help  us  to  confess  the 
true  faith  of  thy  holy  name ;  help  us  to  live  as  becomes 
thy  Gospel ;  and  when  thou  shalt  come  again  to  judge 
the  world  in  righteousness,  may  our  confession  of  thee 
as  our  Saviour  on  earth,  have  prepared  the  way  for 
our  full  acceptance  with  thee  as  our  final  Judge  ! 


THE  HARMONY  AND  EFFICIENCY  OF  THE 
GOSPEL  SCHEME  OF  SALVATION. 


1  John  ii.  1,  2 


My  little  children,  these  things  write  I  unto  you,  that  ye  sin  not. 
And  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous:  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins:  and  not  for  ours 
only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 

It  was  at  a  very  advanced  period  of  his  life,  tliat 
the  Apostle  Jolin  addressed  this  Epistle  to  the  Chris- 
tians of  his  day.  It  may  be  considered,  therefore,  as 
containing  his  dying  instructions  and  exhortations. 
They  are  delivered  in  that  spirit  of  affectionate  ten- 
derness which  ever  characterized  the  disciple  of  whom 
it  was  emphatically  said  that  Jesus  loved  him.  In  the 
overflowing  of  this  spirit  of  love,  he  writes  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  his  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  calls  them  his 
children ; — children  in  years,  compared  with  him  the 


212  THE   HAEMONY   AND   EFFICIENCY   OF 

aged  Apostle,  and  probably  tlie  sole  survivor  of  tliose 
who  companied  with  our  blessed  Saviour ; — and  chil- 
dren in  reference  to  the  affection  which  he  felt  and 
exhibited  for  all  who  named  the  name  of  Christ.  His 
anxious  desire  is  to  lead  them  to  a  full  and  experimen- 
tal knowledge  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  their  propitiation 
for  sin,  and  their  advocate  with  the  Father ;  and  to 
show  them  how  the  love  of  Christ,  if  genuine,  wQl  pro- 
duce love  to  our  brethren  and  superiority  to  the  world 
and  its  pleasures.  But  lest  the  free  and  gracious  man- 
ner in  which  the  promise  of  pardon  is  made,  should 
induce  any  to  be  careless  in  committing  sin,  he  puts  in 
close  connection  with  the  declaration  that  Jesus  is  the 
propitiation  for  sin,  an  earnest  exhortation  that  we 
should  not  commit  sin.  "My  little  children,  these 
things  write  I  unto  you,  that  ye  sin  not.  And  if  any 
man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous:  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins."  This,  indeed,  may  be  considered  as  a  sum- 
mary of  the  Gospel. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  we  have  here  an  exhortation 
to  us  that  we  sin  not,  and  a  system  of  instructions  in 
reference  to  the  will  of  God,  and  the  extent  and  obli- 
gation of  human  duty,  that  removes  from  us  every 
possible  excuse  for  sinning  ignorantly.  The  Gospel  is 
a  perfect  law ;  one  in  which  there  can  be  found  neither 
error  nor  deficiency ;  and  one  which  requires  no  emen- 
dation in  consequence  of  the  changes  of  individual 
character,  or  the  circumstances  of  the  whole  social 
community  of  man.     Every  where,  and  at  all  times, 


THE   GOSPEL   SCHEME   OF   SALVATION.  213 

and  in  all  places,  are  its  great  principles  adequate  to 
all  our  moral  wants,  and  equal  to  our  highest  moral 
instruction.  And  in  no  one  feature  of  the  Gospel,  is 
its  truth  and  divinity  more  clearly  demonstrated,  than 
in  this.  Human  laws  require  emendation,  as  the  soci- 
ety for  which  they  are  made  improves,  or  its  relations 
become  altered.  Codes  of  morals,  as  collected  and 
arranged  by  human  wisdom,  are  deficient,  and  their 
principles  are  not  of  universal  application.  Not  so 
with  the  Gospel ;  it  is  unchangeable  as  its  Author,  and 
its  principles  are  of  direct  and  easy  application  where- 
ever  man  is  found.  Does  not  this  prove  it  to  be 
divine?  JMust  it  not  be  an  emanation  from  that 
Almighty  and  All-seeing  mind  that  created  man  and 
knew  what  was  in  him  ?  The  argument  is  an  impor- 
tant and  powerful  one,  and  capable  of  a  fuU  and  inter- 
esting elucidation ;  but  it  would  draw  us  too  far  from 
our  present  object  to  pursue  it  any  farther.  It  has 
been  introduced  simply  with  the  design  of  showing, 
that  when  the  Gospel  calls  upon  us  not  to  sin,  it  at  the 
same  time  makes  every  reasonable  provision  for  ena- 
bling us  not  to  do  so.  "  The  law  of  the  Lord  is  a  per- 
fect law,  converting  the  soul;  the  testimony  of  the 
Lord  is  sure,  and  giveth  wisdom  unto  the  simple ; " 
and,  as  is  said  in  the  emphatic  language  of  Scripture, 
"  the  way-faring  men,  though  fools  shall  not  err  there- 
in." To  one  who  has  received  the  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ,  therefore,  there  can  be  no  such  thing,  properly 
speaking,  as  sins  of  ignorance.  If  the  law  is  trans- 
gressed, it   must   be  through  culpable  neglect  in  not 


214  THE   HAEMONY   AND   EFFICIENCY   OF 

endeavouring  to  know  wliat  it  is ;  or  else  througli  tlie 
power  of  temptation,  silencing  tlie  voice  of  conscience, 
and  setting  aside  the  effect  of  tlie  sanctions  of  God's 
law.  The  exhortation  of  the  Gospel  is,  therefore,  a 
reasonable  and  just  one,  that  we  "  sin  not." 

II.  But  we  must  observe,  in  the  second  place,  that, 
connected  with  this  exhortation,  the  possibility,  and 
indeed  the  probability,  of  transgression  is  clearly 
stated :  "  But  if  any  man  sin."  Now  we  are  assured 
that  every  man  does  sin.  This  is  also  a  clear  and  explicit 
declaration  of  the  revealed  Word  :  "  There  is  no  man 
that  sinneth  not."  No  one  of  the  sons  of  men  that 
has  ever  lived  has  attained  the  mark  of  Christian  per- 
fection ;  and  no  one,  while  the  world  shall  last,  can 
ever  attain  unto  it. 

Here  the  objection  may  be  suggested,  why  was  a 
law  set  forth,  and  obedience  to  it  required,  when  at  the 
same  time  it  was  certain  that  no  one  of  those  beings 
for  whom  it  was  framed  could  ever  fulfil  it  in  all  its 
extent  %  Is  it  not  unreasonable  to  set  up  a  precept  for 
the  observance  of  those  whose  capacity  is  not  adequate 
to  its  observance  ? 

Now,  we  observe,  in  reply,  that  there  is  this  capa- 
city for  obedience,  otherwise  there  would  be  no  guilt 
in  transgression.  It  is  a  self-evident  principle,  that  I 
cannot  be  justly  condemned  for  not  doing  that  which 
was  beyond  the  reach  of  my  powers  of  accomplishment. 
But  we  prove  that  there  is  this  capacity  by  appealing 
to  the  conscience  of  every  man  to  ask,  if  at  any  time 
when  he  has  done  wrong,  he  has  not  afterwards  felt 


THE   GOSPEL   SCHEME    OF   SALVATI01S-,  215 

convinced  that  it  was  in  liis  power  to  do  right  ?  Were 
any  of  us  ever  tempted  to  an  action  when  our  free 
will  was  destroyed  ?  Have  we  not  always  been  at 
perfect  liberty  to  choose  or  to  refuse  ?  And  when  the 
power  of  temptation  has  triumphed  over  us,  has  it  not 
been  because  we  were  false  to  ourselves,  and  did  not 
make  use  of  the  knowledge  and  exercise  the  power  of 
resistance  which  we  felt  conscious  of  possessing  ?  It 
must  be  obvious,  then,  that  the  guilt  is  all  our  own. 
But  in  regard  to  the  perfection  of  the  Divine  law,  and 
the  reasonableness  of  its  being  set  before  fallible  man 
as  the  guide  of  his  conduct,  we  have  another  obser- 
vation to  make.  It  could  not  be  otherwise  than  per- 
fect, considering  its  great  design.  It  was  constructed 
for  a  being  capable  of  endless  progression,  and  destined 
to  make  advances  in  spiritual  knowledge  and  moral 
purity  to  all  eternity.  We  are  not  hke  the  beasts  that 
perish,  endowed  with  an  instinct  that  instructs  us  and 
impels  us  to  fulfil  the  whole  design  of  our  existence, 
and  that  both  permits  and  enables  us  to  arrive  at  the 
perfection  of  our  nature.  On  the  contrary,  there  are 
no  limits  to  our  spiritual  growth.  It  is  our  own 
neglect  and  our  own  sin  if  we  are  not  growing  wiser 
and  better  to  the  very  moment  of  our  transfer  to 
another  state  of  existence ;  and  we  have  reason  to 
believe  that  one  of  the  unspeakable  pleasures  of  this 
state  will  be  the  delight  of  conscious  and  rapid  im- 
provement. Here  improvement  is  effected  amidst 
many  hardships  and  discouragements,  and  often  have 
we  the  painful  consciousness  of  falling  backward  in  our 


216  THE   HAEMONY   AND   EFFICIEJSTCY   OF 

course  ;  but  tliere  oui-  progress  in  holiness  will  be  with- 
out pain,  without  discouragement,  and  without  end. 
Glorious  and  ennobling  thought !  one  which  leads  us 
to  consider  the  true  dignity  of  our  nature, — one  which 
more  clearly  and  satisfactorily  than  any  other  argu- 
ment proves  to  us  our  immortality  ! 

Such  being  our  nature  and  destination,  is  it  not 
obvious  that  the  law  to  govern  us  must  embrace  the 
perfection  of  which  we  are  capable,  and  for  which  we 
are  intended  ?  Is  there  any  point  at  which  it  could 
stop  short  of  that  precept  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  "  Be 
ye  perfect  even  as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is 
perfect."  "Would  not  a  more  narrow  demand  limit 
our  improvement  and  our  hopes  ?  Straining  every 
exertion  to  attain  perfection,  although  we  may  not 
reach  it,  will  not  our  flight  be  loftier,  and  our  progress 
incomparably  greater,  than  if  the  requisition  made 
upon  us  was  defined  and  moderate  ? 

But  here  a  difficulty  presents  itself  to  our  notice, 
an  apparent  discordance  which  must  be  harmonized. 
The  law  requires  from  us  perfect  obedience ;  the  ca- 
pacity for  fulfilling  the  law  is  doubtless  given  to  us, 
but  yet  we  are  all  without  exception  transgressors. 
How  then  is  the  dignity  of  the  Lawgiver  and  the 
authority  of  the  law  to  l)e  vindicated,  and  yet  man  be 
saved  from  the  penalty  of  transgression  ?  This  ques- 
tion is  replied  to  by  the  Apostle,  and  to  notice  it  will 
constitute  the  third  and  last  remark  which  I  have  to 
offer  to  you  as  suggested  by  the  text. 

III.  "  But  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with 


THE   GOSPEL   SCHEME   OF   SALVATIOlSr.  217 

the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and  he  is  the 
proj^itiation  for  our  sins ;  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world."  Here,  my  brethren,  the 
doctrine  of  the  atonement  is  presented  to  us  in  all  its 
extent,  and  in  all  its  consoling  power.  Here  we  may 
see  the  union  of  mercy  and  truth,  the  lovely  embracing 
of  righteousness  and  peace.  This  great  event,  the  sac- 
rifice of  our  blessed  Saviour,  was  needed  to  vindicate 
the  Divine  dispensations,  to  reconcile  revelation  with 
itself,  to  sustain  the  throne  of  the  moral  government 
of  God,  and  to  fix  its  foundations  in  justice,  equity, 
and  truth.  Now,  he  can  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier 
of  all  that  believe  in  him.  Without  this  discovery, 
that  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  every  one  that  belie veth  in  him 
should  not  j)erish  but  have  everlasting  life," — without 
this  discovery,  awful  indeed  would  be  our  condition. 
The  law  is  unfolded  to  us  in  all  its  purity  and  perfec- 
tion, and  the  command  is  universal  and  authoritative 
that  we  sin  not.  And,  moreover,  we  feel  that  we  have 
the  power  of  obedience,  and  yet  we  are  convicted 
in  our  consciences  of  daily  transgression.  Where 
then  would  be  our  way  of  escape  ?  to  what  refuge 
could  we  flee,  were  not  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  set 
before  us  ? 

Observe,  my  brethren,  that  in  our  text  all  the  great 
of&ces  of  our  Saviour,  as  connected  with  our  salvation, 
are  held  out  to  prominent  view.  He  is  our  advocate 
with  the  Father,  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  for 
ever  living  to  make  intercession  for  us.    And  it  is  Jesus 


218  THE   HARMOISTT   AND   EFFICIENCY   OF 

Christ  tlie  rigliteous,  lie  wlio  did  no  sin,  neither  was 
guile  in  liis  mouth,  who  fulfilled  the  whole  law ;  and 
being  himself  perfect,  could  rightly  offer  himself  as  a 
sacrifice.  He  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.  How 
full  and  explicit  is  this  word,  "  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins."  The  oris^inal  word  thus  translated  is  found  in 
the  New  Testament  only  in  this  Epistle ;  but  in  the 
Greek  version  of  the  ancient  Testament  it  fi^equently 
occurs,  and  there  it  signifies  always  a  sacrifice  of  atone- 
ment. Jesus  Christ  then  is  our  atoning  sacrifice.  He 
hath  been  offered  up  for  us,  and  hath  purchased  re- 
demption for  us  through  his  blood.  It  has  not  been 
my  design,  from  the  words  of  the  text,  to  enter  upon 
the  proof  and  explanation  of  the  atonement,  but  to 
adduce  it  as  an  essential  part  of  the  grand  whole  of 
the  Christian  scheme.  Without  it  all  is  imperfect  and 
unsatisfactory  ;  without  it  the  parts  could  not  cohere  ; 
it  is  the  essential  principle  of  attraction  which  binds 
the  whole  together.  The  Christian  graces  and  virtues 
may  shine  forth  in  their  mild  radiance,  and  shed  upon 
us  their  sweet  influences,  but  their  light  comes  from 
the  central  source,  and  they  are  kept  in  their  respective 
orbits  in  uniform  and  harmonious  motion  by  the  cen- 
tral power,  and  this  is  Jesus  Christ  and  his  atonement. 
This  it  is  which  gives  light  and  warmth  to  all  the  sys- 
tem. Blot  out  this,  and  all  would  be  dark  and  cold 
and  cheerless  and  hopeless,  and  all  would  soon  rush 
into  disorder  and  fatal  destruction.  But  the  principle 
is  established,  and  sooner  can  the  power  of  gravitation 
be  taken  from  this  our  terrestrial  system,  and  yet  its 


THE   GOSPEL   SCHEME   OF   SALVATION.  219 

order  remain,  than  tlie  atonement  can  be  taken  from 
the  Gospel ;  and  yet  its  truth  and  consoling  power 
upon  fallen  man  remain  unshaken. 

Our  text  then,  my  brethren,  contains  admonition 
and  consolation^  united  in  an  admirable  manner,  and 
beautifully  adapted  to  our  sinful  nature  and  to  our 
present  state  of  existence.  We  are  entreated  not  to 
sin.  Every  inducement  is  presented  to  us  to  draw  us 
from  transgression  and  lead  us  to  obedience  to  the  will 
of  God.  The  awful  punishment  that  awaits  the  unre- 
pentant sinner,  even  everlasting  banishment  from  God 
and  happiness,  is  declared,  and  the  blessed  reward  of 
well  doing  is  unfolded  in  the  promises  of  eternal  life, 
and  pleasures  that  are  at  God's  right  hand  for  ever- 
more. And  every  needed  instruction,  encouragement 
and  assistance,  is  vouchsafed  to  us  in  the  revealed  Word 
of  God  and  the  influences  of  his  Holy  Spirit.  Let  it 
be  our  daily  prayer  and  our  hourly  effort  that  we  sin 
not.  Let  us  earnestly  seek  for  restraining  and  direct- 
ing grace.  Let  us  not  be  satisfied  with  any  present 
attainments,  knowing  that  at  our  best  estates  we  are 
far^  far  removed  from  the  perfection  demanded  of 
us,  and  the  perfection  at  which  we  have  the  power  of 
arriving. 

And  when  in  the  course  of  this  our  probationary 
discipline  it  occurs  to  us,  as  how  often,  alas  !  it  has 
done,  and  will  again,  that  we  have  fallen  immeasural)ly 
short,  not  only  of  Gospel  perfection  but  even  of  our 
own  hopes,  let  us  not  despaii*,  but  remember  for  our 
comfort,  that  if  any  man   sin  we  have  an  advocate 


220  THE   HAKMOlSrY   AISTD   EFFICIENCY   OF 

with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and  that 
he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.  But  while  fully 
appreciating  the  blessings  of  the  Christian's  hope,  let 
us  most  anxiously  guard  against  self-deception  and  the 
sin  of  presuming  upon  God's  mercy.  Is  the  revelation 
of  pardon  made  in  order  to  lighten  the  guilt  of  trans- 
gression ?  Has  a  propitiation  been  made  for  sin,  that 
sin  may  appear  less  hateful  in  our  sight  ?  On  the  con- 
trary, Christ  hath  died  to  procure  our  pardon,  that  we 
may  know  how  great  is  the  guilt  of  sin  and  trans- 
gression when  its  consequences  could  be  removed  only 
by  the  propitiatory  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God.  There- 
fore, if  we  are  indifferent  about  sin,  and  return  to  it  has- 
tily and  easil}^  after  a  short  repentance,  Christ  can 
profit  us  nothing.  He  gives  relief  only  to  those  who 
are  weary  and  heavy  laden  with  the  burden  of  their 
sins.  The  faith  in  him,  which  is  alone  effectual  to  sal- 
vation, is  the  faith  that  works  by  love  and  purifies  the 
heart.  Let  us  then  examine  the  nature  of  our  depend- 
ence uj)on  the  atonement,  and  see  if  it  leads  us  to  a 
greater  hatred  of  sin  and  more  earnest  aspirations  after 
holiness ;  if  it  brings  us  in  deep  and  unfeigned  hu- 
miliation to  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and,  with  the  hope 
of  pardon  that  we  get  there,  unites  in  us  the  resolu- 
tion, that  by  the  grace  of  God  and  in  dependence 
upon  his  Holy  Spirit,  we  will  more  and  more  ear- 
nestly strive  to  love,  to  serve  and  obey  him. 

May  God  grant  that  this  may  be  the  effect  upon 
many  of  us  of  the  preaching  of  Jesus  Christ  and  him 
crucified,  especially  upon  such  of  us  as  are  now  pre- 


THE  GOSPEL  SCHEME  OF  SALVATION.       221 

paring  to  celebrate  tlie  dying  love  of  our  Redeemer, 
and  partake  spiritually  of  that  body  and  blood  that 
was  broken  and  shed  for  us,  and  through  which  alone 
we  dare  look  for  the  pardon  of  our  sins,  and  for  ac- 
ceptance at  the  awful  day  of  the  final  judgment. 


THE  LOVE  OE  GOD  IN  THE  INCARNATION 
OE  CHRIST. 


1  John  iv.  9. 


In  this  was  manifested  tlie  love  of  God  towards  us,  because  that  God 
sent  his  only  begotten  Son  into  the  world,  that  we  might  live  through 
him. 

To  the  triumphant  song  of  the  angelic  host,  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will 
towards  men,"  the  Church  mihtant  this  day  gives 
back  its  annual  response.  Praise,  indeed,  is  ever  due, 
and  is  sung  throughout  the  year,  for  the  blessings  of 
redeeming  love  ;  but  upon  the  natal  day  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace  it  breaks  forth  from  the  faithful  with  peculiar 
demonstrations  of  joy.  The  walls  of  our  temples  clad 
in  bright  and  cheerful  green,  the  fir  tree,  the  pine  tree 
and  the  box  together,  beautifying  the  place  of  God's 
sanctuary,  the  animated  character  of  our  liturgical  ser- 
vices, the  joy  and  peace  of  religion  extending  to  our 


god's  love  est  the  incaenation  of  cheist.     223 

domestic  circles,  and  spreading  their  sweet  influence 
there,  combine  to  show  that  we  regard  this  in  an  espe- 
cial manner  as  a  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made,  and 
therefore  we  rejoice  and  are  glad  therein.  What  theme 
can  be  in  fuller  accordance  with  these  sentiments  and 
these  observances  than  Divine  love,  for  what  clearer 
manifestation  of  this  attribute  can  be  imagined  than 
the  wonderful  event  upon  which  the  Church  demands 
of  us  to  fix  our  devout  contemplations  ?  Instructed, 
then,  and  guided  by  the  text,  and  praying  for  strength 
and  wisdom  from  on  high,  I  would  detain  your  thoughts 
for  a  while  in  meditation,  as  I  trust  they  have  already 
been  engaged  in  devotion,  upon  God's  attribute  of  love, 
and  the  manifestation  of  this  attribute  in  the  incar- 
nation of  his  Son. 

Love,  then,  as  an  attribute  of  God,  first  calls  for 
the  exercise  of  our  thoughts.  Now  to  comprehend 
the  essence  of  the  Divine  nature  far  transcends,  we 
know,  the  power  of  finite  man.  Even  the  angels, 
though  dwelling  for  ever  beneath  the  effulgent  beams 
of  the  manifested  Godhead,  can  never  reach  to  the 
height  of  this  knowledge.  To  them,  as  to  all  created 
beings,  it  must  for  ever  remain  inaccessible.  But  if  we 
know  not  now,  and  throughout  the  progress  of  eter- 
nity can  never  ariive  at  knowing  the  Almighty  unto 
perfection,  yet  we  may  attain  to  some  delightful  and 
consoling  measures  of  this  knowledge  by  meditating 
upon  those  adorable  attributes  of  the  Supreme  which 
have  been  revealed  to  us.  But  so  weak  are  our  powers 
when  directed  to  this  sublime  object  of  contemplation, 


224  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE 

that  for  all  the  practical  purposes  of  religious  medi- 
tation, we  are  oblio^ecl  to  take  the  attributes  of  God 
separately,  and  to  think  of  him  sometimes  as  Almighty, 
sometimes  as  infinite  in  mercy,  sometimes  as  unbounded 
in  goodness,  sometimes  as  exhaustless  in  wisdom,  and 
sometimes  as  awful  and  inflexible  in  justice.  So  fully 
are  all  these  attributes  manifested  in  him,  that  we  may 
with  strict  propriety  say  he  is  himself  each  one  of 
them.  He  is  power,  he  is  justice,  he  is  goodness,  he  is 
wisdom,  he  is  mercy.  This  mode  of  expression,  how- 
ever, seems  to  be  peculiar  to  St.  John.  In  one  place 
he  declares  God  is  hght,  and  in  the  verse  immediately 
preceding  my  text  he  proclaims  that  God  is  love. 

This  attribute  belongs  to  him  in  the  fullest  extent. 
It  is  not  modified  or  restricted,  but  exists  in  all  its  en- 
tireness,  so  that  in  the  Divine  nature  it  is  capable 
of  neither  addition  nor  diminution.  To  all  created 
beings  the  moral  quahties  are  of  necessity  commu- 
nicated by  measure,  and  in  different  23roportions,  and 
the  perfection  of  man's  nature  demands  that  a  cer- 
tain equilibrium  should  be  maintained  between  them. 
Therefore  in  man,  a  character  all  love  would  degenerate 
into  weakness,  the  sentiment  of  justice  would  be  over- 
powered, and  thus  the  fulness  of  one  quality  would  be 
ill  compensated  for  by  the  absence  or  inefficiency  of 
others.  But  all  the  possible  perfections  of  a  moral 
being  are  found  in  God,  and  cannot  be  attributed  to 
him  by  measure  or  in  any  degree  short  of  infinite.  Of 
all  these,  however,  the  one  upon  which  sinful  man  can 
dwell  with  the  greatest  satisfiiction  is  love.    The  justice 


INC  AERATION   OF   CHEIST.  225 

of  God,  although  we  are  constrained  to  reverence  it, 
yet  it  speaks  to  us  only  the  language  of  condemnation 
and  punishment.  The  goodness  of  God,  although  it 
must  command  our  admiration,  yet  it  opposes  a  painful 
contrast  to  our  own  depravity,  and  says.  Behold,  O 
sinner,  how  far  you  have  departed  from  my  image. 
The  power  of  God,  while  we  are  lost  in  astonishment 
at  its  magnificent  results,  yet  it  must  fill  us  with  terror 
at  the  thought  of  the  tremendous  ability  it  supj^oses 
of  inflicting  the  penalties  of  the  violated  law  upon  us 
guilty  transgressors.  But  love.  Divine  love,  speaks  to 
us  of  mercy,  of  pardon,  of  reconcihation,  and  all  those 
themes  upon  which  the  Christian  soul  delights  to  dwell, 
and  which  make  the  Gospel  to  be  truly  denominated 
glad  tidings  of  great  joy.  Love  shows  to  us  the  sword 
dropped  from  the  hand  of  justice,  the  awful  frown  re- 
moved from  the  brow  of  offended  goodness,  and  power, 
which  might  be  exerted  to  kill  and  to  destroy  for  ever, 
put  forth  only  to  save  and  to  make  alive  for  ever. 
"  In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God  towards  us," 
even  in  planning  and  carrying  out  to  its  full  and  per- 
fect execution  the  work  of  redemption. 

Not  that  we  are  to  look  upon  this  as  the  sole  and 
exclusive  manifestation  of  this  glorious  attribute  of 
the  Divine  nature.  The  Apostle  would  not  thus  con- 
fine and  limit  our  contemplations.  He  would  not 
withdi'aw  the  eye  from  gazing  upon  the  wide-sj)read 
universe,  and  reading  what  is  there  written,  in  char- 
acters all  bright  and  glowing,  that  God  is  love.     He 

would  not  check  the  mind  in  its  exercise  of  tracing  out 
15 


226  THE   LOVE   OF   GOD   EST   THE 

the  wonderful  workings  of  a  kind  Providence  in  its 
adaptation  of  tke  events  of  life  to  the  moral  discipline 
of  man.  He  would  not  discourage  us  from  filling  our 
hearts  even  to  overflowing,  from  the  manifold  sources 
that  so  abundantly  supply  it  with  the  sentiment,  that 
God  is  good  to  all,  and  his  tender  mercies  are  over  all 
his  works.  But  to  redemption  he  points  us  as  the 
fullest  and  most  overpowering  proof  that  God  is  love. 
This  is  a  manifestation  which  no  sophistry  of  the 
ingenious  but  perverse  mind  of  man  can  obscure,  and 
which  no  ignorance  of  man  possessed  of  ordinary  facul- 
ties can  fail  to  comprehend.  The  necessity  for  redemp- 
tion, and  the  fact  of  its  having  been  accomplished,  may 
indeed  be  denied  by  infidelity.  But  granting  to  us 
the  truth  of  the  statements  made  in  the  Word  of  God 
(and  with  those  only  who  make  this  profession  of  faith 
am  I  concerned  at  present),  then  we  contend  that  the 
love  of  God  to  man  is  far  more  fully  and  satisfactorily 
shown  in  the  work  of  redemption  than  in  that  of 
creation,  or  than  in  the  superintending  <jare  of  a  con- 
stant Providence.  Great  as  are  these  proofs  of  love, 
and  convincingly  as  they  come  home  to  the  intel- 
ligent and  contemplative  mind  and  the  devout  heart, 
yet  who  can  deny  that  these  proofs  are  mingled  with 
some  obscurities,  and  embarrassed  with  some  difficul- 
ties. Need  I  refer  to  the  existence  of  physical  and 
moral  evil,  the  earthquake  and  the  tempest,  the  famine 
and  the  pestilence,  the  pains  of  body,  the  anguish  of 
mind,  and  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heii*  to  ?  These  have 
been  ever  a  source  of  perplexity  to  the  finite  mind  of 


nVCAENATION   OF   CHEIST.  227 

man ;  they  sometimes  bring  dark  and  anxious  thoughts 
to  the  devout,  and  they  render  our  argument  with  the 
infidel  upon  the  Divine  attributes  of  wisdom  and  good- 
ness less  triumphant  than  otherwise  they  must  be.  If 
God  be  indeed  love,  why  does  he  permit  the  creatures 
of  his  hand  to  suffer  the  miseries  we  daily  see  inflicted 
upon  them  ?  His  power  is  infinite ;  with  the  single 
exercise  of  his  will  he  could  prevent  them.  Now,  to 
all  such  objections  we  have  our  reply, — that  sin  was 
the  cause  of  both  physical  and  moral  evil ;  and  but  for 
sin  the  earth  would  be  yet  the  garden  of  Eden,  and 
man  would  never  have  experienced  sorrow,  pain,  or 
death.  Still  the  objection  returns  in  another  form : 
why  did  God  permit  the  tempter  to  intrude  into  Para- 
dise, or  why  not  have  given  to  man  the  power  of  re- 
sisting his  seductions  ?  But  here  we  cease,  and  refer 
all  to  the  sovereign  will  of  God ; — we  know  that  he 
is  wise  and  good,  and  that  we  are  ignorant  and  sinful, 
and  we  wait  in  faith  and  patience  for  the  revelations 
of  a  future  world,  to  explain  what  is  obscure  in  this. 
In  this  state,  then,  we  find  ourselves  as  regards  the 
arguments  drawn  from  creation  and  providence  in 
proof  of  the  love  of  God  to  man ;  we  yield  them  our 
fullest  assent,  we  are  abundantly  satisfied  with  them  ; 
but  then  faith  is  essential  to  silence  difficulties,  and  to 
complete  this  satisfaction. 

But  when  we  turn  to  redemption  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  Divine  love,  it  is  all  effulgent  to  our  sight ;  no 
shadow  passes  over  it,  and  no  cloud  obscures  it.  Faith 
is  not  required  to  help  us  to  the  conviction  that  God's 


228  THE   LOVE   OF   GOD   EST   THE 

sending  Ms  Son  into  the  world,  tliat  we  poor,  fallen, 
and  dying  sinners,  might  rise  and  live  through  him,  is 
great  and  overpowering  evidence  of  his  love.  Faith 
is  only  essential  to  bring  us  to  assent  to  the  facts  that 
man  fell,  and  that  God's  Son  came  to  save  him.  These 
facts  acknowledged,  the  evidence  for  Divine  love  is 
strong  beyond  the  power  of  expression.  The  facts  of 
creation  and  providence  assented  to,  and  the  inference 
is  not  so  immediate  or  conclusive.  Doubts  will  occa- 
sionally intrude  themselves  into  the  mind  and  disturb 
our  peace.  We  have  then  to  arm  us  with  the  Pro- 
phet's resolution — "Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not 
blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vine ;  the  labor  of 
the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat ; 
the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall 
be  no  herd  in  the  stalls;  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord; 
I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation."  Or  we  have 
to  emulate  the  triumphant  resignation  of  the  holy 
Job — "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him ; " 
or,  the  faith  of  the  pious  Psalmist,  to  assure  us  that 
though  "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  Him," 
yet  "  righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation 
of  His  throne."  But  redemption  is  the  demonstration 
of  love ;  love  unmingled,  unbounded,  unutterable ! 
Admit  the  facts,  and  no  doubts  or  difiiculties  can,  for 
an  instant,  check  the  conviction  that  God  is  love. 

Look  at  them  and  consider  them  for  a  moment. 
When  man  became  a  transgressor,  when,  from  being  a 
child  of  life  and  light,  he  became  an  heir  of  darkness 
and  the  grave,  he  was  not  abandoned  to  his  awful  con- 


n^CAENATION    OF   CHRIST.  229 

dition.  Altliongli  wilful  disobedience  had  subjected 
him  to  death ;  although  he  had  become  obnoxious  to 
the  law,  by  trampling  upon  the  just  commjinds  of  a 
righteous  God ;  although  he  had  wilfully  defaced  the 
image  of  holiness  in  which  he  was  at  first  created ; 
yet  love  prevailed  over  justice ;  the  anger  of  offended 
majesty  gave  way  to  the  tender  affections  of  a  Father. 
Justice  did  not  require  that  the  penalties  which  trans- 
gression of  the  law  had  incurred,  should  be  remitted. 
Nay,  on  the  contrary,  it  called  for  their  execution  upon 
the  offender.  The  law  was  fully  promulgated,  its  sanc- 
tion was  clearly  declared,  ample  power  was  given  to 
obey ;  for  man  was  created  upright.  Who  then  can 
say  that  the  penal  sentence  should  be  arrested,  and 
that  the  death  which  passed  upon  all  should  be  re- 
moved ?  No  one.  We  must  lay  our  hands  upon  our 
mouths,  and  our  mouths  in  the  dust,  and  cry,  righteous 
and  true  are  thy  judgments,  O  thou  King  of  Saints ! 
But  his  judgments  are  not  only  righteous  and  true, 
they  are  exercised  in  love ;  love  too  deep,  too  wide- 
spreading,  for  our  contracted  thoughts  to  fathom,  or 
to  encompass ;  love  which  surpassed  even  the  compre- 
hension of  heavenly  minds ;  for  these  things  the  angels 
desire  to  look  into  ;  love  which  the  inspired  Apostle 
could  not  adequately  unfold,  and  therefore  when  he 
asserts  this  adorable  attribute  in  the  emphatic  declara- 
tion "  God  is  Love,"  his  illuminated  mind  could  con- 
ceive, and  his  spirit-given  language  could  express,  the 
demonstrative  truth  alone  in  its  simple  but  mysterious 
grandeur — "  In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God 


230  THE   LOVE   OF  GOD   ITsT   THE 

towards  us,  because  tliat  God  sent  his  only  begotten 
Son  into  tlie  world,  that  we  might  live  through  Him." 
"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  hfe  for  his  friends."  But  we  can  conceive 
of  such  love  as  this.  Yea,  the  world  has  seen,  the 
world  may  yet  possess  men  of  like  form  and  passions 
with  ourselves,  but  of  benevolence  so  warm,  of  courage 
so  undaunted,  of  disinterestedness  so  God-like,  that 
self-sacrifice  even  unto  the  death,  would  eagerly  be  en- 
countered to  save  from  temporal  harm,  and  much  more 
from  eternal  misery,  the  selected  objects  of  the  heart's 
fond  love.  This  we  can  conceive  of  But  who  can 
conceive  of  a  love  so  powerful,  that  it  might  send  from 
its  bosom  a  Son,  the  brightness  of  its  glory  and  the 
ex]3ress  image  of  its  person ;  a  Son,  the  dearly  beloved 
and  only  begotten  of  his  Father ;  send  him  from  bright 
palaces,  and  unbounded  joys,  and  exalted  glory,  and 
the  ministry  and  adoration  of  numbers  without  num- 
ber of  devoted  subjects ;  send  Him,  the  spiritual  and 
mysterious  birth  of  eternity,  to  be  degraded  into  the 
offepring  of  time,  the  offspring  of  flesh,  the  offspring 
of  abject  poverty,  to  be  housed  in  a  stable  and  cradled 
in  a  manger,  to  be  nurtured  in  privations,  and  reared 
amidst  dangers  and  hardships,  to  be  subjected  to  trials 
and  want,  to  own  and  be  sheltered  by  no  abode  where 
to  lay  his  head,  to  be  d  oomed  to  shed  tears  of  sorrow, 
and  to  be  heart-pierced  with  pangs  of  grief,  and  to 
encounter  the  opposition  of  foes  and  the  treachery  of 
friends,  and  hatred,  insult,  persecution,  and  to  be  buf- 
feted, spit   upon,  mangled   with  thorns   and  pierced 


INCAElSrATIOlSr   OF   CHEIST.  2  SI 

with  nails,  and  to  die  in  agony,  a  cursed  and  ignomi- 
nious deatli,  and  all  to  save  the  forfeited  lives,  and 
redeem  the  lost  happiness,  not  of  friends,  but  of  foes 
and  rebels !  Who  can  conceive  of  such  a  love  as  this  ? 
It  passes  all  reach  of  thought,  it  is  beyond  the  power 
of  comprehension.  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches,  both 
of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God !  how  unsearch- 
able are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out." 
Is  not  redemption,  then,  a  brighter,  clearer,  more 
overpowering  manifestation  of  love,  than  either  cre- 
ation or  providence  ?  Creation  we  may  conceive  of  as 
a  delightful  exercise  of  conscious  power,  to  speak  into 
being  this  fair  world,  and  yon  bright  sun^  and  those 
brilliant  gems  that  stud  the  canopy  of  night,  and  to 
send  forth  the  sister  seasons  to  walk  their  annual  round 
in  glad  procession,  and  to  cause  life  to  invest  itself  and 
move  in  varied  forms  of  strength  and  beauty,  and  to 
walk  the  land,  and  cleave  the  air,  and  swim  the  ocean 
stream,  and,  to  crown  this  work  with  the  sublime  con- 
ception of  man  erect  and  Godlike,  thinking,  feeling,  im- 
mortal man  ;  this  is  a  glorious  and  animating  thought, 
and  when  God  looked  upon  every  thing  he  had  made, 
and  behold  it  was  very  good,  with  ineffable  satisfaction 
might  the  Deity  have  lent  his  gracious  ear  as  the  morn- 
ing stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy.  The  exercise  of  providential  care,  too,  over 
this  majestic  universe,  giving  rain  from  heaven,  and 
fruitful  seasons,  and  filling  all  things  li\ang  with  food 
and  gladness ;  this  we  can  conceive  of  as  the  constant 
outpouring  of  a  dehghted  and  Divine  beneficence. 


232  THE   LOVE   OF  GOD   EST   THE 

But  we  speak,  we  must  speak,  after  tlie  manner  of 
men.  God  cannot  rejoice  in  his  works  as  man  rejoices, 
nor  can  lie  suffer  as  we  do.  Therefore  vain,  for  ever 
vain,  must  be  all  our  attempts  to  reacli  tlie  measure 
of  Divine  love.  We  may,  liowever,  institute  a  compari- 
son in  regard  to  its  manifestations.  I  can  be  thankful, 
devoutly  thankful,  for  existence  ;  that  I  have  been  cre- 
ated of  a  kind  little  lower  than  the  angels,  that  I  can 
look  forth  on  this  beautiful  and  beaming  universe,  that 
I  am  not  degraded  to  a  physical  existence  here,  but  on 
the  wino;s  of  the  mind  can  soar  above  and  hold  com- 
munion  with  the  skies.  I  can  feel  thankful,  devoutly 
thankful,  that  God  watches  over  and  protects  me,  that 
he  keeps  me  from  dangers,  sustains  me  in  sorrows  and 
trials,  and  preserves  me  yet  from  death.  But  O  what 
words  can  express  the  gratitude  I  should  feel,  that, 
while  yet  a  sinner.  He  gave  his  Son  to  save  me  from 
everlasting  woe  !  Where  is  the  mind  that  can  grasp 
the  extent  of  this  love  ?  where  is  the  heart  that  can 
pour  forth  gratitude  fast  enough,  and  strong  enough, 
to  repay  it?  O  how  utterly  inadequate  the  deepest 
emotions  of  the  human  heart !  the  loudest  praises  of 
the  human  tongue !  Yet  here  is  love,  that  these  emo- 
tions and  these  praises  will  not  be  rejected  ;  no,  feeble 
and  mingled  with  imperfections  as  they  are,  if  sincere, 
they  shall  find  acceptance  at  the  throne  of  mercy. 

Yes,  the  anthems  of  this  day,  the  services  of  this 
temple,  the  incense  of  prayer  that  has  risen  and  is  now 
rising  from  these  hearts  of  yours,  will  not  be  rejected. 
In  humble  and  devout  gratitude,  then,  in  the  conscious- 


ES^CAET^ATIOlSr    OF   CHKIST.  233 

uess  of  sin  and  unworthiness,  but  in  the  encouragement 
of  a  Saviour's  intercession,  we  lift  up  our  hearts  with 
our  voices  unto  thee,  O  gracious  Father,  and  say,  Thanks 
be  unto  thee  for  thine  unspeakable  gift !  thanks  be  unto 
thee  for  the  glorious  and  consoling  manifestation  of 
thy  love  we  this  day  celebrate !  thanks  be  unto  thee 
that  "  Unto  us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given, 
whose  name  is  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty  God, 
the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace ! "  May  he 
bring  peace  to  each  one  of  us  in  the  pardon  of  sin  and 
reconciliation  unto  thee!  and  then,  with  the  whole 
host  of  thy  redeemed,  shall  we  one  day  sing  in  bliss 
— "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain.  Blessing  and 
honor,  glory  and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon 
the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever." 


THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OE  PRAYER. 


Job  XXL  15. 

What  profit  should  we  have  if  we  pray  unto  him  ? 

Not  in  tlie  spirit  of  inquiry,  but  of  atheistical  con- 
tempt, were  these  expressions  used.  Job  is  speaking 
of  profligate  and  hardened  infidels,  who,  even  in  that 
day,  infested  society,  and  laboured  to  corrupt  it  with 
theii'  blasphemous  doctrines.  He  describes  them,  by 
their  principles  and  in  theii'  conduct,  as  saying  unto 
God,  "  Depart  from  us,  for  we  desire  not  the  know- 
ledge of  thy  ways.  What  is  the  Almighty  that  we 
should  serve  him  ?  and  what  profit  should  we  have  if 
we  pray  unto  him  ? "  The  goodness  and  forbearance 
of  God,  and  the  mercies  and  providences  exhibited  to 
his  Church  in  a  long  succession  of  ages,  and  the  accu- 
mulated proofs  he  has  given  of  his  truth,  wisdom,  and 
loving  kindness,  have  not  subdued  this  spirit,  nor 
silenced  this  hateful  and  insulting  language  towards 


THE  DUTY  AUB   ADVANTAGES  OF  PEAYEK.    235 

tlie  Majesty  of  heaven.  Even  in  this  land  of  religions 
light  and  Gospel  privileges,  are  found  those  by  whom 
the  attributes  of  a  Divine  Providence  are  denied,  and 
prayer  is  considered  a  servile  and  unmeaning  employ- 
ment. But  my  attention  is  not  now  to  be  directed  to 
such  persons,  for  they  are  not  ordinarily  within  the 
reach  of  the  arguments  and  expostulations  of  the 
pulpit.  I  speak  to  those  who  profess  to  believe  in 
God,  and  to  acknowledge  the  doings  of  his  providence ; 
and  who  regard  prayer  as  the  duty,  the  incumbent 
duty,  of  frail  and  dependent  man. 

But  is  there  not  reason  to  apprehend  that  a  large 
proportion  even  of  those  who  bear  the  Christian 
name,  and  w^ho  bring  their  bodily  service  to  the  house 
of  God,  yet  entertain  very  imperfect  ideas  of  the 
nature  and  privileges  of  prayer  ?  They  assent  to  it  as 
a  duty,  and  they  pay  an  outward  deference  to  its 
forms ;  but  they  do  not  comprehend  its  spirit,  and 
therefore  cannot  engage  heart  and  soul  in  its  perform- 
ance. Now  one  reason  of  this  inefficient  and  godless, 
but  yet,  alas  !  too  prevailing  state  of  mind,  is  that  the 
advantages  of  prayer,  that  is,  the  actual  benefits  we 
ourselves  derive  from  the  discharge  of  this  duty,  are 
not  reahzed.  I  suppose,  therefore,  such  persons  to  ask 
the  question  of  my  text,  "  What  profit  should  we  Lave 
if  we  pray  unto  him  ? "  They  need  no  argument  to 
prove  that  prayer  is  a  duty,  but  they  will  perhaps  be 
stimulated  to  its  more  faithful,  constant,  and  heartfelt 
discharge  by  meditating  upon  its  advaiitages.  This 
then  is  my  design  in  the  present  discourse  ;  and  while 


236    THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OF  PEATEE. 

1  endeavour  to  sliow  you  wliat  profit  you  shall  liave  if 
you  pray  unto  God,  may  liis  Spirit  be  with  us  to  give 
efficacy  to  the  word  preached,  and  to  open  all  hearts 
for  its  reception,  that  thus  the  spirit  of  prayer  and 
supplication  may  abound  more  and  more  amongst  us, 
to  the  honour  and  praise  of  His  holy  Name ! 

The  duty  of  prajdng  to  God,  let  it  be  observed,  we 
assume  to  be  fully  and  clearly  established.  It  rests 
upon  immutable  foundations, — ^the  relation  in  which 
finite  man  stands  to  that  great  Being  who  created  and 
who  still  sustains  him,  and  the  express  commands  of 
God  as  declared  to  us  in  the  revelation  of  his  will. 
Arguments  to  prove  this  duty  are  strictly  in  place 
therefore  only  with  those  who  doubt  the  existence  and 
attributes  of  God,  or  who  reject  revelation.  My 
object  is  simply  to  state  the  advantages  of  complying 
with  this  duty.  But  I  infer  these  advantages  as  a 
general  proposition  from  the  fact  that  prayer  is  a  duty. 
The  discharge  of  every  duty  is  absolutely  beneficial  to 
the  person  discharging  it — otherwise  the  obligation 
could  not  justly  be  imposed.  The  good  that  is  to 
accrue  to  him  may  not  be  immediate  or  obvious ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  may  seem  that  his  temporal  advantage 
would  be  best  promoted  by  infringing  the  acknow- 
ledged principles  of  duty.  Still,  however,  follow  out 
disobedience  in  any  single  act  to  all  its  consequences, 
and  trace  with  equal  perseverance  the  efifects  of  obe- 
dience, and  it  will  uniformly  be  found  that  a  selfish 
regard  even  to  a  man's  own  real  and  permanent  inter- 
est would  prompt  compliance  with  the  dictates  of  duty. 


THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OF  PEAYER.    237 

I  do  not  say  that  men  are  to  be  influenced  by  tliis 
motive.  By  no  means.  We  are  to  do  tliat  wliicli  is 
riirlit,  because  God  commands  it,  without  reference  to 
immediate  consequences.  So  restricted  is  our  know- 
ledge of  the  operation  of  circumstances,  and  so  short- 
sighted our  views  as  to  the  future,  that  were  the  con- 
sideration of  self  to  be  brought  in,  we  should  often 
waver,  and  sometimes  absolutely  fear  to  follow  the  path 
of  duty.  The  great  principle  is,  however,  absolutely 
true,  that  in  this  as  in  all  respects,  God  will  make  all 
things  work  together  for  good  to  those  who  love  him. 
Now  to  apply  this  principle  to  the  question  before 
us.  Because  prayer  is  made  a  duty,  we  have  a  right  to 
infer  that  it  is  profitable  to  us  in  its  very  nature.  God 
would  never  have  required  it  for  himself ;  he  needs  no 
propitiation  of  this  kind ;  he  has  no  self-love  to  be 
gratified  by  our  unqualified  submission ;  he  needs  not 
to  have  his  power  fortified  and  increased  by  our  ac- 
knowledged dependence ;  his  benevolence  does  not 
require  to  be  encouraged  and  enlarged  by  hearing  his 
creatures  recount  their  wants,  or  shout  their  gratitude 
for  the  benefits  he  confers.  No ;  all  such  views  of  the 
relation  that  subsists  between  us  and  our  Heavenly 
Father,  and  of  the  nature  and  operation  of  pi-ayer, 
would  derogate  from  his  awful,  yet  lovely  and  adora- 
ble character.  Not  that  we  are  to  sujipose  our  jDrayers 
to  be  without  efficacy  in  procuring  for  us  the  object 
of  our  supplications.  On  the  contrary,  we  have  the 
fullest  and  most  satisfactory  assurances  that  "the 
eftectual  fervent  prayer  of  the  righteous  man  availeth 


238    THE  DUTY  XKD   ADVANTAGES  OF  PEAYER. 

miicli."  Were  not  our  convictions  upon  this  point 
strong  and  unwavering,  wliat  encouragement  could  we 
tave  to  make  our  requests  known  unto  God  ?  How 
heartless,  how  unmeaning,  nay,  how  impious  an  em- 
ployment would  prayer  become  ?  To  ask  of  God  cer- 
tain blessings,  to  beseech  him  to  protect  us  from  im- 
pending dangers,  at  the  same  time  knowing  that  the 
purposes  of  his  will  must  be  unchanged  in  these  re- 
spects, and  that  the  same  events  would  take  place 
whether  or  not  we  prayed — this  would  be  worse  than 
vain ;  it  would  imply  a  mockery  of  the  Supreme  upon 
our  part,  and  upon  his,  should  he  command  prayer  as 
a  duty,  an  unworthy  insult  upon  our  condition  of 
frailty  and  dependence. 

When,  therefore,  I  assert  that  God  does  not  de- 
mand the  offering  of  prayer  on  his  own  account,  or 
to  strengthen  his  own  power,  or  increase  his  own  hap- 
piness, I  assert  only  what  St.  Paul  declares  in  the  lan- 
guage of  inspiration  :  "  God  that  made  the  world  and 
all  things  therein,  seeing  that  he  is  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands  ; 
neither  is  worshipped  with  men's  hands  as  though  he 
needed  any  thing,  seeing  he  giveth  to  all  life,  and  breath, 
and  all  things."  If,  therefore,  he  'hath  required  the 
intelligent  creatures  whom  he  hath  made,  to  pray  unto 
him,  and  if  he  hath  so  ordered  his  moral  government 
as  that  his  dealings  with  them  shall  in  any  degree  be 
contingent  upon  the  discharge  of  this  duty,  it  is  be- 
cause their  real  and  permanent  happiness  is  best  pro- 
moted by  this  order  of  his  Providence.     And  is  it  not 


THE   DUTY   AISTD   ADVAI^AGES    OF   PRAYEK.         239 

promoted,  I  would  ask,  in  the  knowledge  tlius  given 
to  us  of  our  wants,  sorrows,  and  infirmities  ?  This 
knowledge  is  indeed  often  forced  upon  us  by  our  own 
sad  experience.  But  then  in  this  way  it  comes  sud- 
denly :  we  are  unprepared,  and  the  affliction,  of  what- 
ever nature  it  may  be,  strikes  upon  us  with  a  tenfold 
violence.  We  must  yield  to  it,  and  for  a  time  we  are 
prostrated  by  it,  but  gradually  we  recover ;  and  as  the 
occasion  passes  away,  so  also  do  all  the  good  effects  of 
such  discipline  disappear.  Were  we,  on  the  other  hand, 
in  a  measure  prepared  by  anticij)ation  for  sorrows  and 
adversities,  or  were  we  placed  on  our  guard  against  the 
effect  of  our  sins  and  infirmities,  the  suffering  would 
be  less  in  amount,  and  it  would  be  mitigated  by  the 
reflection  that  moral  discipline  was  connected  with  it. 
'Now  prayer  performs  for  us  these  friendly  and 
important  offices.  We  lay  before  the  Almighty  the 
actual  evils  under  which  we  are  suffering,  and  we  de- 
precate those  we  are  exposed  to.  Knowing  that  he  is 
a  very  present  help  in  the  time  of  trouble,  and  also  our 
only  sure  safeguard  and  defence  against  future  dan- 
gers, we  can  go  to  him  in  confidence  for  relief  and 
protection.  The  praying  man  is  the  man  who  will  be 
most  likely  to  understand  his  own  character,  and  to  be 
prepared  against  every  emergency  that  may  arise. 
His  daily  intercourse  with  his  Maker,  leads  him  to 
think  of  these  things,  and  therefore  he  is  forearmed ; 
and  by  the  exercise  of  prayer  he  seeks  to  be  forewarned. 
I  do  not  think  it  possible  that  he  who  lives  in  the  habit 
of  daily,  soul-searching  prayer,  can  be  the  imj^rudent, 


240    THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OF  PEAYEE. 

unguarded  man ;  or  that  lie  will  be  exposed  as  otlier 
men  to  unexpected  and  ruinous  reverses.  For  having 
it  firmly  fixed  in  liis  mind  as  a  principle,  that  he  will 
undei-tahe  no  important  enterprise  until  he  has  sought 
counsel  and  strength  of  the  Lord,  he  has  an  opportu- 
nity to  revise  in  secret  the  decisions  he  has  made  dur- 
ing the  noise  and  tumult  of  worldly  business.  His 
prayers,  we  believe,  will  bring  down  from  above  the 
assistance  he  asks  for  ;  but  even  did  they  not  produce 
this  eifect,  they  give  him  the  advantage  of  a  more 
unprejudiced,  and  a  more  cautious  determination,  than 
he  could  obtain  in  any  other  way.  True,  indeed,  the 
prudent  and  well-informed  man  of  affairs  will  ordi- 
narily be  enabled  to  make  wise  decisions,  and  the  igno- 
rant and  incautious  man  will  be  exposed  to  great  mis- 
takes, notwithstanding  the  frequency  and  sincerity  of 
his  prayers.  But  what  I  assert,  and  what  I  wish  to 
fix  in  your  minds,  is  this,  that  prayer,  while  it  sancti- 
fies, will  also  invigorate  and  improve  what  we  call 
natural  advantages ;  and  will  have  a  tendency  to  ward 
off  the  consequences  of  inability.  Thus,  let  a  man  be 
ever  so  prudent,  intelligent,  far-sighted,  dexterous  in 
any  matters  he  has  in  hand,  these  qualities  will  be  very 
much  more  efiicient  when  combined  with  the  spirit  of 
prayer ;  and  their  al)sence  in  any  individual  will  be 
much  less  detrimental  to  him  if  their  place  is  supplied 
by  the  wisdom,  prudence,  and  energy  of  devotion. 

But  a  higher  and  holier  advantage  we  derive  from 
prayer  is,  that  it  brings  us  into  intercourse,  as  it  were, 
with  the  spiiitual  world,  and  prepares  us  for  the  abode 


THE   DUTY   AISTD   ADVA]STAGES    OF   PEAYER.         241 

tliere  we  are  all  looking  forward  to.  I  trust  I  am 
speaking  to  those  wko  can  appreciate  these  advan- 
tages, otherwise  my  instructions  are  vain ;  indeed  they 
will  not  be  comprehended.  Our  whole  life  here  is  a 
strucrffle  with  the  influences  of  flesh  and  sense.  We 
are  conscious  of  a  spiritual  nature,  which  aspires  to 
higher  and  better  things  than  it  can  find  here  below. 
It  is,  indeed,  often  held  captive,  as  it  were,  being  en- 
tangled in  the  meshes  of  sin  and  folly;  but  still  its 
spiritual  vision  is,  in  a  measure,  free ;  it  can  look  up  to 
better  things,  although  it  cannot  rise  to  them.  Now 
prayer  encourages  this  disposition;  it  keeps  the  eyes 
above  till  earthly  pleasures  and  temptations  are  almost 
forgotten ;  till  the  soul  becomes  unconscious  even  of 
the  net  in  which  it  is  entwined,  and  then  it  is  excited 
to  a  vigorous  effort ;  perhaps  it  breaks  through  at  once ; 
at  any  rate,  it  ruptures  some  portions  of  its  restraints, 
and  by  successive  efforts,  the  whole  is  weakened  and 
at  last  destroyed. 

When  a  man  begins  to  feel  that  he  has  here  no 
continuing  city,  and  is  truly  desirous  to  seek  for  a  bet- 
ter, that  is,  an  heavenly ;  and  when,  in  consequence,  he 
reflects  upon  his  condition  as  a  sinner,  and  sincerely 
bemoans  his  estrangement  from  God,  and  desires  to 
repent  and  be  converted,  he  will  at  once  turn  to  the 
exercise  of  prayer,  and  prayer  will  give  him  spiritual 
assistance ;  all  this  we  acknowledge,  but  the  course  of 
my  argument  leads  me  to  consider  what  may  seem  to 
be  the  selfish  profit  of  prayer.     In  this  ^dew,  then,  it 

elevates  and  ennobles  his  character.     We  know  that  a 
16 


242         THE   DUTY   AND   ADVAITOAGES   OF   PEAYEE. 

man's  tone  of  tliouglit  and  liis  exterior  conduct  are 
very  essentially  influenced  by  the  associations  of  society 
in  whicli  lie  lives.  Now  if  he  has  frequent  intercourse 
with  God,  if  daily  and  oftentimes  in  the  day,  he  leaves 
for  a  brief  space,  this  world  of  sin  and  turmoil,  and 
holds  communion  with  the  realms  of  peace  and  purity, 
will  not  his  intellect,  his  affections,  his  imagination,  all 
that  belongs  to  him,  derive  a  corresponding  benefit  ? 
And  if  he  lives,  as  every  man  should  desire  to  live,  for 
his  better  nature,  will  he  not  derive  a  profit,  an  im- 
mense profit,  from  the  exercise  of  prayer  ? 

But  the  time  would  fail  me,  were  I  to  endeavour  to 
enumerate  even  a  small  portion  of  the  advantages 
which  prayer  communicates  to  those  who  practise  it, 
even  independently  of  the  du'ect  returns  we  receive  in 
favourable  answers  from  above,  to  our  petitions.  As 
immortal  beings,  living  here  in  a  state  of  probation, 
undergoing  a  discipline  for  another,  and  an  enduring 
state  of  existence,  prayer  would  be  profitable  to  us  even 
were  it  not  the  appointed  instrument  to  bring  down 
blessings  from  above.  The  very  employment  is  itself 
an  unspeakable  blessing  and  benefit.  But  the  subject 
before  us  can  be  much  more  easily  treated  as  a  prac- 
tical than  a  speculative  one.  And  when  the  question 
is  asked — "  What  profit  shall  we  have  if  we  pray  unto 
him  ? " — ^The  reply  must  be  given, — begin  the  exercise, 
and  then  you  will  begin  to  understand  and  to  experi- 
ence the  profit.  The  answer  can  be  returned  in  general 
terms,  that  if  your  course  of  life  leads  you  to  intel- 
lectual pursuits,  your  intellect  will  become  more  vig- 


THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OF  PEAYEK.    243 

orous  and  clear-siglited ;  you  will  understand  the  plii- 
losophy  of  mind  better ;  you  will  enter  more  deeply 
into  the  mysteries  of  nature ;  you  will  relish  in  a  higher 
degree  the  inspirations  of  poetry :  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
you  are  involved  in  the  practical  business  of  the  world, 
you  will  conduct  it  more  prudently  and  more  efficiently ; 
if  you  are  engaged  in  duties  of  any  kind,  public  or  pri- 
vate, you  will  comprehend  their  extent,  and  see  better 
how  to  discharge  them.  And  what  is  of  infinitely  more 
importance,  all  such  pursuits  will  become  sanctified  to 
the  great  end  of  your  being.  Now  in  order  to  appre- 
ciate all  this,  you  must  commence  the  duty,  and  as  you 
persevere,  in  such  proportion  shall  you  profit. 

To  some  here  present,  I  have  been  unfolding  views 
that  are  familiar  to  their  minds,  and  with  some  their 
experience  has  far  outstripped  what  the  preacher  has 
declared.  I  need  hardly  addi'ess  to  such  the  exhor- 
tation, "be  instant  in  prayer,"  " pray  without  ceasing ; " 
fulfil  with  David  the  emphatic  declaration — "  Morning 
and  evening,  and  at  noon-day,  will  I  pray."  No,  breth- 
ren, ye  have  experienced  the  profit  of  prayer.  It  has 
comforted  your  sorrows,  it  has  strengthened  your  weak- 
ness, it  has  illuminated  the  darkness  of  your  minds ; 
and  so  abundantly  are  ye  conscious  of  the  blessings  ye 
have  derived  from  it,  that  ye  will  persevere  in  these 
holy  services,  and  your  only  effort  will  be  to  make 
them  more  frequent,  and  more  fervent.  Ye  know, 
indeed,  by  sad  experience,  your  infirmities,  and  the 
iniquities  and  imperfections  of  your  spiritual  perform- 
ances.   But  still  your  prayers  are  in  Christ  and  through 


244         THE   DUTY   AISTD    ADVATs^TAGES    OF   PEAYER. 

Clirist,  and  lie  will  offer  tliem  as  Mediator  and  Inter- 
cessor at  his  Father's  throne.  You  have  confidence  in 
him,  and  by  faith  in  him  you  are  assured  of  accept- 
ance. 

There  are  others  of  my  hearers  to  whom  this  sub- 
ject more  particularly  addresses  itself;  who  do  not 
practise  prayer,  or  who  do  it  in  a  cold,  and  formal 
manner,  and  with  frequent  and  long  intermissions. 
To  om'  exhortations  they  will  be  tempted  to  reply,  with 
incredulous  minds,  what  j)rofit  shall  we  have  if  we 
pray  unto  him  ?  We  beseech  you,  trust  his  Word  and 
promises;  make  one  sincere  and  persevering  effort. 
Seek  the  retirement  of  your  closet,  and  commune  with 
him  morning  and  evening  for  a  brief  space  of  time,  and 
see  if  your  labors  and  self-denials  are  not  rewarded. 
We  forewarn  you  that  you  will  at  first  encounter  diffi- 
culties ;  the  mind  will  wander,  the  heart  will  seem 
cold.  But  do  not  be  soon  discouraged.  If  your  exer- 
cises of  devotion  are  short,  let  them  be  frequent  and 
at  stated  times ;  and  be  assured  that  success  will  at 
last  crown  your  efforts.  If  you  do  not  desire  holiness, 
if  you  seek  for  nothing  but  what  this  world  can  afford 
you ;  if  you  have  determined  to  make  it  your  only 
portion,  and  are  ready  to  brave  death,  and  to  despise 
eternity, — ^then  indeed  you  need  not  pray ;  nay,  you 
will  not  pray ;  for  the  language  of  prayer  will  arouse 
your  consciences  like  a  whip  of  scorpions ;  ye  cannot 
pray  and  live  on  in  sin  unconcerned.  But  if  ye  have 
begun  to  feel  that  all  below  is  vanity,  if  sorrow  has 
touched  your  hearts,  and  disappointed  hope  has  embit- 


THE  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES  OF  PKAYEK.    245 

tered  your  life ;  if  sickness  lias  deprived  your  accus- 
tomed enjoyments  of  their  relish,  and  ye  are  looking 
around  in  anxiety  for  some  relief;  if  ye  want  a  re- 
source for  an  aching,  a  wearied,  a  mortified  spirit,  O 
fly  to  prayer ;  look  to  God  through  Jesus  Christ,  in 
supplication,  and  see  if  His  assurances  will  not  prove 
true ;  if  His  promises  will  not  be  fulfilled ;  and  if  ye 
shall  not  find  profit  when  ye  pray  unto  Him. 


THE  SUPPER  OE  THE  LORD  OUR  MOST 
PRECIOUS  PRIVILEGE. 


1    COKENTHIANS   XI.    26. 

For  as  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the 
Lord's  death  till  he  come. 

The  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  stands  out 
from  the  other  facts  of  Gospel  history  as  the  one  most 
absorbing  in  interest,  and  most  elevated  in  importance. 
The  other  events  of  the  Saviour's  life  are  connected 
with  this  as  subsidiaries  to  a  principal,  as  antecedents 
and  consequents  to  a  sublime  and  all-controlling  trans- 
action. He  was  made  flesh,  and  was  born  in  order  that 
he  might  die  upon  the  cross,  an  atoning  sacrifice  for  the 
sins  of  guilty  man.  He  rose  from  the  grave,  and  as- 
cended to  the  right  hand  of  God,  to  give  assurance 
that  his  propitiation  was  effectual,  and  that  he  has  won 
for  himself  the  authority  of  a  prevailing  intercessor. 
Hence  we  observe  that  the  death  of  Christ  is  the  only 


THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LORD,  ETC.        247 

event  connected  with  his  mission,  whicli  he  has  ex- 
pressly enjoined  upon  his  disciples  to  commemorate. 
The  Church  indeed,  in  devout  admiration  of  the  whole 
series  of  the  wonders  of  redemption  attendant  upon 
that  chief  one, — the  Saviour  bleeding,  agonizing,  and 
dying  on  the  cross  ;  and  with  the  design  of  fixing  them 
enduringly  in  the  memories  and  hearts  of  her  children, 
has  appointed  stated  seasons  for  celebrating  the  Ad- 
vent, the  Nativity,  the  Circumcision,  and  the  Epiphany 
of  her  great  Head,  and,  by  Apostolical  authority,  doubt- 
less, transferred  the  sanctifying  of  the  seventh  part  of 
our  time  from  the  Jewish  Sabbath  to  the  first  day 
of  the  week,  because  that  Jesus  then  burst  the  bars 
of  death  and  rose  triumphant. 

But  to  none  of  these  observances  are  we  directed 
by  the  Saviour  himself,  whereas  he  ordained  that  his 
death  should  be  held  in  unceasing  memory  by  his  dis- 
ciples. He  adopted  also  the  most  impressive  and 
appropriate  means  for  securing  the  accomplishment 
of  this  great  design.  Upon  the  evening  before  his 
death,  when  surrounded  by  the  few  chosen  depositaries 
of  his  Word  and  authority,  and  upon  an  occasion  that 
was  connected  by  a  rapid  succession  of  affecting  events 
with  the  scene  of  Calvary  itself,  he  gave  to  these  his 
disciples  what  they  would  regard  as  his  parting  and 
dying  command :  "  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me." 
And  when,  after  a  space  of  time  had  elapsed  since  the 
Lord  ascended,  a  new  Apostle  was  to  be  added  to  the 
number  as  the  special  messenger  to  the  Gentiles,  he 
did  not  receive  the  command  by  tradition,  instruction, 


24S  THE  SUPPEE  OF  THE  LORD 

or  any  mode  of  personal  communication  Tvitli  man,  but 
lie  received  it  from  tlie  glorified  Saviour  Mmself.  "  I 
liave  received  of  tlie  Lord,"  says  St.  Paul,  when  intro- 
ducing the  words  of  the  text,  "  that  which  also  I  de- 
livered unto  you.  That  the  Lord  Jesus  the  same  night 
in  which  he  was  betrayed  took  bread :  and  when  he 
had  given  thanks,  he  l)rake  it,  and  said.  Take,  eat :  this 
is  my  body,  which  is  broken  for  you  :  this  do  in  remem- 
brance of  me.  After  the  same  manner  also  he  took 
the  cup,  when  he  had  supped,  saying.  This  cup  is  the 
New  Testament  in  my  blood:  this  do  ye,  as  oft  as 
ye  drink  it  in  remembrance  of  me.  For  as  often  as  ye 
eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  shew  the 
Lord's  death  till  he  come."  The  same  Apostle  says 
also,  in  another  place,  with  marked  emphasis,  when 
speaking  of  the  Gospel,  "  I  neither  received  it  of  man, 
neither  was  I  taught  it  but  by  the  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ." 

This,  then,  we  are  authorized  in  regarding  as  the 
chief  essential  and  crowning  observance,  ordinance, 
and  sacrament  of  the  Gospel.  Baptism  indeed  was 
equally  appointed  by  the  authority  of  Christ  himself, 
and  its  observance  is  equally  necessary.  But  baptism, 
observe,  is  only  the  initiatory  rite  to  that  system  which 
embodies  the  Lord's  Supper  as  its  great  ordinance. 
Baptism  is  at  the  portal  and  opens  the  door  of  admis- 
sion, and  prepares  the  guest,  by  purification  and  invest- 
ing him  with  the  spiritual  garment  of  white,  for  par- 
ticipation in  the  feast  spread  within.  And  therefore 
once  prepared,  and  once  admitted,  no  need  is  there 


OUR   MOST   PEECIOUS    PRIVILEGE.  249 

for  ever  renewing  tliis  observance,  nor  can  it  ever  be 
repeated  wlien  duly  performed,  without  sacrilege.  But 
the  feast  is  renewed  day  by  day ;  its  celebration  to 
those  once  entered  into  the  Church  is  always  prac- 
ticable, nor  can  they  too  frequently  participate  in  these 
high  and  joyful  solemnities.  Let  the  nature  and 
design  of  this  sacrament  be  fully  understood,  and  the 
inference  is  irresistible,  that  all  the  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ  should  observe  it,  and  that  they  cannot  observe 
it  too  frequently.  It  is  the  mode  appointed  by  the 
Saviour  himself,  in  which  his  death  shall  be  commem- 
orated for  ever  in  his  Church.  This,  however,  might 
have  been  accomplished  by  the  setting  apart  of  a  spe- 
cial season  or  seasons,  just  as  the  creation  of  the  world 
was  to  be  solemnized  by  the  consecration  of  the  seventh 
day,  and  as  the  resurrection  is  kept  in  lively  remem- 
brance by  the  setting  apart  the  first  day  in  each  week, 
and  one  of  these  first  days  in  each  year  as  the  queen 
festival.  But  the  Saviour's  death  was  not  only  to  be 
commemorated,  but  it  was  to  be  shown  or  exhibited 
in  Hvely  symbols.  This  again  might  have  been  accom- 
plished by  some  visible  token,  as  by  the  cross  worn 
openly  as  an  outward  badge  of  profession,  and  exhib- 
ited and  carried  as  the  ark  of  old  in  solemn  processions. 
But  farther,  the  Saviour's  death  was  to  be  brought 
into  the  closest  and  most  immediate  connection  with 
every  individual  disciple,  and  he  was  to  feel  that  he 
could  only  live  his  spiritual  life,  by  the  nourishment 
given  to  him  by  the  very  body  and  blood  of  Christ 
that  was  broken  and  shed  for  him.    And  therefore  the 


250  THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LOED 

sacrament  is  not  only  a  commemoration  and  a  lively 
exhibition  of  the  death  of  Christ,  but  the  representative 
symbols  are  to  be  eaten  and  drunk  by  the  faithful,  and 
to  mingle  Avith  the  vital  circulations,  in  proof  that  as 
the  body  is  kept  alive  and  is  strengthened  by  these,  so 
the  soul  holds  its  life,  and  maintains  its  health  and 
\agor,  by  feeding  on  the  spiritual  body  and  blood  of 
the  true  paschal  Lamb  that  was  slain  for  us. 

For  this  declaration  of  the  true  but  mysterious 
nature  of  this  holy  sacrament,  we  depend  not  upon 
inferences  drawn  from  Sacred  Writ ;  we  have  the  words 
of  Christ  himself,  as  explicit  as  they  could  be  made. 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  except  ye  eat  the  flesh 
of  the  Son  of  man,  and  drink  his  blood,  ye  have  no 
life  in  you.  Whoso  eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh  my 
blood  hath  eternal  life,  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the 
last  day.  For  my  flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  my  blood 
is  drink  indeed.  He  that  eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh 
my  blood,  dwelleth  in  me  and  I  in  him."  These  words, 
which  he  spake  in  the  progress  of  his  ministry,  and 
which  then  were  mysterious,  and  to  those  who  heard 
them  inexplicable,  he  explained,  and  rendered  instinct 
with  a  solemn  and  practical  meaning  when  he  took  the 
bread  and  the  cup  of  wine,  and  said,  "This  is  my 
body,"  and  "  this  is  my  blood."  Henceforth  the  bread 
and  wine  set  apart,  and  broken  and  poured  forth,  by 
those  to  whom  Christ  gave  the  direction  and  authority, 
"  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me,"  and  by  their  suc- 
cessors, till  he  himself  come  again,  are  to  be  to  the 
faithful  the  symbols  of  the  real  body  and  blood  of 
their  Saviour. 


OUR   MOST    PRECIOUS   PRIVILEGE.  251 

Are  we  not  justified  then  wlien  we  declare  the 
Supi:)er  of  the  Lord  to  be  not  merely  a  commemorative 
rite,  but  also  "  a  direct  means  and  pledge  of  grace,  a 
solemn  realizing  to  the  eye  of  faith  of  the  presence  of 
our  Saviour  Christ  himself;  a  way  whereby  the  be- 
liever is  brought  into  immediate  and  intimate  union 
with  his  Redeemer,  and  made  partaker  of  life  and  im- 
mortality." 

An  ordinance  of  such  obligation,  being  the  clear 
and  express  appointment  of  our  Lord  himself ;  and  of 
such  significancy,  being  the  embodying  of  all  that 
Jesus  did  and  sufl:ered  to  redeem  us  from  death  and 
eternal  woe,  and  an  ordinance  of  such  efficacy,  present- 
ing to  us  the  very  food  by  which  our  spiritual  life  is 
to  be  sustained,  can  its  observance  be  too  warmly  or 
too  perseveringly  urged  upon  Christians  ?  Can  we  err 
when  we  aflfectionately  invite  all  who  have  entered  the 
Church,  to  assemble  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  and  to 
secure  a  part  in  the  invaluable  privileges  which  are 
theirs  1  Upon  all  the  members  of  Christ^s  Church  it 
is  a  right  and  privilege  conferred,  that  they  should  be 
guests  whensoever  the  feast  of  his  holy  Supper  is  cele- 
brated ;  and  the  members  of  his  Church  are  those  ad- 
mitted into  it  by  baptism.  Why  then  is  there  so  large 
a  proportion  who  neglect  habitually  to  claim  their 
right  and  enjoy  their  privilege  ?  With  many,  we  fear, 
it  is  because  they  look  upon  these  things  with  indif- 
ference, if  not  contempt.  They  feel  not  the  need  of  a 
Saviour,  and  therefore  we  can  offer  no  inducement 
strong  enough  to  draw  them  to  our  holy  solemnities. 


252  THE  SUPPEE  OF  THE  LORD 

And  until  they  deeply  experience  this  need,  we  could 
not  desire  their  presence  ;  for  we  dare  not  ask  them  to 
eat  and  drink  condemnation  unto  themselves.  But 
others  there  are,  and  we  believe  many,  who  are  kept 
from  us  by  a  trembling  apprehension,  who  are  con- 
scious of  inward  unfitness  for  drawing  near  to  the 
table  of  the  Lord. 

Now  whence  arises  this  sense  of  unfitness  ?  From 
the  conviction  of  sin,  and  of  a  life  spent  in  constant 
inconsistency  with  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel  ?  This 
doubtless,  T\hile  it  remains,  is  an  entire  disqualification. 
When  therefore  this  feeling  of  unworthiness  is  felt  to 
be  a  barrier  to  approaching  the  table  of  the  Lord, 
there  should  be  some  examination  and  some  expos- 
tulation of  the  sinner  with  himself :  "  These  sins  of 
which  I  am  conscious,  I  mean  to  abandon,  or  I  mean 
to  continue  yet  awhile,  and  to  live  in  them.  Now,  if 
I  still  continue  in  them,  am  I  better  prepared  to  die 
and  to  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  God,  than 
I  am  to  draw  nigh  to  the  table  of  his  Son  ?  And  can 
I  know  how  soon  and  how  suddenly  I  may  receive  my 
summons,  and  be  hurried  into  the  presence  of  my 
Almighty  Judge  ?  This  call  I  cannot  evade,  although 
I  may  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  gracious  invitation  now 
made.  Why  then  should  I  not  abandon  hastily  and 
in  alarm,  these  sins  which  expose  me  to  eternal  misery 
during  every  moment  that  I  breathe  ?  Why  should  I 
still,  with  an  awful  hardihood,  brave  death  and  judg- 
ment ?  If  then  I  resolve  to  abandon  my  sins,  and  to 
be  prepared   for   my  inevitable,  but  unknown   hour 


OUR   MOST   PRECIOUS   PRIVILEGE.  253 

of  death,  wliy  may  I  not  draw  near  to  tlie  Lord's 
table?" 

Conscious  and  trembling  sinner,  do  you  indeed  ask 
why  ?  We  reply,  tbat  you  may  draw  near ;  for  such 
as  you  was  the  ordinance  appointed,  to  give  you  the 
comforting  assurance  of  pardon  when  you  are  penitent ; 
to  give  you  help  to  make  good  your  holy  resolutions  ; 
to  afford  you  strength,  not  your  own,  to  resist  future 
temptation ;  to  give  you  power,  not  your  own,  to  make 
greater  advances  in  the  life  of  godliness, — for  these  very 
purposes  was  this  blessed  ordmance  provided.  Its 
express  and  declared  design  is  fulfilled  when  such  as 
you  draw  near  to  unite  in  its  celebration.  Come  then, 
we  exhort  you,  to  this  sacred  solemnity.  All  we  ask 
is  that  you  come  in  penitence  for  your  sins,  and  in  the 
resolution,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  abandon  them,  and 
in  faith  in  the  atoning  merits  of  your  Saviour.  Come 
and  receive  the  23ledge  and  the  seal  of  pardon  for 
all  past  transgression ;  receive  grace  to  sanctify  the 
heart  unljurdeued  of  sin ;  and  receive  spiritual  food  to 
strengthen  you  for  a  new  and  holy  life. 

But  am  I  not  unworthy  ?  you  will  perhaps  timidly 
reply ;  and  if  I  eat  and  drink  unworthily,  shall  I  not 
eat  and  drink  damnation  unto  myself  ?  That  you  are 
unworthy,  of  your  own  self,  is  not  to  be  questioned. 
And  who,  we  ask,  is  or  can  be  worthy  of  so  high  an 
honor,  and  so  great  a  privilege  ?  Who  is  worthy  to 
come  into  the  presence  of  his  Saviour,  and  place  him- 
self before  the  banquet  of  heavenly  food  j^rovided  for 
him  ?     The  angels  veil  their  faces  in  his  presence  ;  and 


254  THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LORD 

wliile  tliey  sing,  worthy  is  tlie  Lamb,  in  deep  liumility 
their  hearts  respond,  unworthy  are  we  to  laud  his  holy 
Name.  How  far,  how  immeasurably  far  must  the 
holiest  of  the  sons  of  men  be  from  worthiness.  We 
sinners  should  not  presume  to  mark  grades  of  discrimi- 
nation. It  is  not  a  question  of  more  or  less  worthy. 
And  blessed  be  the  merciful  Saviour,  he  permits  not 
this  question  of  worthiness  to  come  in  to  the  inquiry 
of  preparation.  Our  worthiness  is  all  his,  and  our  only 
valid  claim  in  this  respect  is  by  that  we  receive  through 
faith  in  him.  The  question  is  exclusively  one  of  faith 
and  rej^entance.  The  solemn  caution  then  is  to  him  that 
eateth  and  drmketh  tmivorthily^  not  to  him  who  being 
unworthy  comes  to  partake,  but  to  him  who  would 
partake  in  an  unworthy  manner ;  not  discerning  the 
Lord's  body,  but  treating  the  holy  solemnity  with 
sacrilegious  indifference,  or  perverting  it  as  the  Co- 
rinthians did,  to  unrestrained  festivity. 

Fear  not  the  being  unworthy,  when  this  feehng  is 
prompted  by  humility  and  a  sorrowful  and  oppressive 
sense  of  sin ;  fear  rather  to  neglect  the  means  proposed 
to  relieve  you  from  such  sin ;  fear  rather  to  turn  away 
from  the  offer  of  pardon  and  reconcihation ;  fear  to 
disobey  the  command  of  that  Saviour  who  came  to 
seek  you  because  you  were  lost,  to  save  you  because 
you  were  under  condemnation,  and  to  clothe  you  with 
his  merits  because  you  had  no  worthiness  of  your  own 
on  which  to  rely.  Be  such  your  fear,  and  you  will  not 
turn  away  from  this  holy  ordinance  ;  you  will  long  for 
its  approach  ;  the  times  of  its  celebration  will  seem  to 


OUE   MOST   PRECIOUS   PRIVILEGE.  255 

you  separated  by  a  weary  distance.  The  Lord's  death 
is  your  life  and  your  salvation,  and  earnestly  will  you 
desire  to  show  it  until  he  come.  And  can  ye  show  it 
too  gratefully  ?  and  can  ye  show  it  too  often  ?  Nay, 
never,  never  too  often  can  this  heart-reviving  solemnity 
be  shown. 

Return,  blessed  days,  return,  when  the  baptized 
servants  of  the  Lord  "  continued  daily  with  one  accord 
in  the  temple,  and  breaking  bread  from  house  to  house, 
did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness  and  singleness  of 
heart, — ^praising  God,  and  having  favor  with  all  the 
people.  And  the  Lord  added  to  the  Church  daily  such 
as  should  be  saved." 


THE  LABORERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 


Matthew  xx.  16. 

So  the  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first  last :  for  many  be  called,  but 
few  chosen. 

It  may  be  said  of  many  portions  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, and  particularly  of  tlie  parables  of  our  blessed 
Saviour,  that  their  full  value  can  be  obtained  only  by 
examining  them  from  two  points  of  view.  First,  their 
application  to  those  to  whom  they  were  originally  ad- 
dressed ;  and,  secondly,  their  general  application  to 
all  men.  The  first  examination  is  necessary  to  give  us 
an  accurate  acquaintance  with  the  meaning  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, as  this  meaning  must  often  be  discovered  by  re- 
ferring to  the  customs,  habits  of  thinking,  and  prevail- 
ing errors  of  the  times,  when  the  inspired  penman 
lived.  By  the  second  examination  those  inferences  are 
brought  to  the  mind  which  are  of  practical  importance, 
and  the  discovery  of  which  is  the  .chief  object  of  search- 


THE  LABOEEES  IIS"  THE  VINEYAED.       2  5*7 

ing  the  Scriptures.  We  sliall  follow  this  plan,  therefore, 
in  speaking  upon  the  parable  of  the  laborers  sent  into 
the  vineyard,  and  which  has  been  read  to  you  as  the 
Gosj^el  of  the  day. 

The  words  of  the  text,  "  the  last  shall  be  first,  and 
the  first  shall  be  last,"  are  found  at  the  beginning  as 
well  as  the  end  of  the  parable.  For  although  they 
form  the  last  verse  of  the  chapter  preceding,  yet  as  the 
division  of  the  Scriptures  into  chapters  and  verses  is 
of  no  divine  authority,  and  is,  in  a  number  of  cases, 
executed  without  due  regard  to  the  continuity  of  the 
sense ;  so  here  the  connection  would  seem  to  require 
that  the  last  verse  of  the  nineteenth  chapter  be  con- 
sidered as  the  introduction  of  the  parable.  Our  Sa- 
viour then  declares  to  his  disciples,  that  "Many  that 
are  first  shall  be  last,  and  the  last  shall  be  first ; "  and 
to  unfold  to  them  his  meaning  more  fully,  he  proceeds 
to  relate  the  parable  of  the  laborers  sent  into  the 
vineyard. 

Now  what  was  the  important  lesson  of  instruction 
which  he  designed  at  this  time  to  communicate  to  his 
followers  ?  To  discover  this  will,  in  the  first  place, 
properly  engage  our  attention. 

We  shall  find  that  much  light  will  be  thrown  upon 

our  inquiry,  by  recurring  to  a  passage  in  the  Gospel 

of  St.  Luke,  where  the  remarkable  words  of  our  text 

are  used  in  a  connection  more  fully  displaying  theii' 

meaning.     It  is  a  prediction  of  what  shall  be  the  fate 

of  many  of  those  persons  at  the  day  of  judgment,  to 

whom  the  Gospel  was  offered  by  the  Saviour  himself, 
17 


258  THE   LABOEEES   EST   THE   VINEYAED. 

but  wlio  rejected  and  despised  it.  When  tliey  find 
themselves  excluded  from  the  Kingdom  of  heaven, 
they  will  begin  to  say  to  the  great  Judge,  we  have 
eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast 
taught  in  our  streets.  But  they  shall  be  banished 
with  the  awful  sentence — depart  from  me  ye  workers 
of  iniquity.  And  to  aggravate  their  misery,  they  shall 
behold  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  and  the  Prophets 
in  the  Kingdom  of  heaven,  but  themselves  thrust  out. 
And  more  than  this :  many  shall  come  from  the  east 
and  from  the  west,  and  from  the  north  and  from  the 
south,  and  shall  sit  down  in  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
And  behold  there  are  last  which  shall  be  first,  and 
there  are  first  which  shall  be  last.  These  people,  who 
are  to  be  gathered  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth, 
are  without  doul)t  those  individuals  of  the  Gentile 
nations,  v/ho,  being  last  in  theii*  religious  privileges 
and  opportunities,  yet  having  employed  them  well, 
shall,  at  the  day  of  judgment,  be  counted  first,  /.  ^., 
shall  obtain  that  heavenly  reward  from  which  many 
of  the  descendants  of  Abraham,  enlightened  by  reve- 
lations from  God,  and  instructed  by  a  long  line  of 
prophets,  shall  be  excluded.  These  are  called  the  first, 
because,  as  the  peculiar  people  of  God,  they  had  long 
enjoyed  those  advantages  for  religious  improvement 
which  had  been  denied  to  the  Gentiles.  Thus  do  we 
find  that  the  language  of  our  text  is  clearly  explained. 
These  last,  who  arc  to  be  accounted  first,  are  the  Gen- 
tiles, who,  being  far  behind  the  Jews  in  their  oj^por- 
tunities  for  knowing  and  j)ractising  the  will  of  God, 


THE   LABOEEES   I]Sr   THE   VESHEYAED.  259 

are  yet,  on  account  of  their  greater  earnestness  to  ob- 
tain their  salvation,  and  their  anxious  desire  to  improve 
their  more  limited  privileges,  esteemed  before  them. 
These  first,  who  are  to  be  last,  are  the  Jews,  to  whom 
were  committed  the  Sacred  Oracles,  and  to  whom 
j)rophets  and  holy  men  were  sent  to  guide  them  in 
the  way  of  righteousness ;  but  they,  desj)ising  the 
mercy  and  long  suffering  of  God,  and  neglecting  the 
repeated  admonitions  of  his  messengers,  forfeit  his  es- 
teem, and  will  be  reckoned  last  on  that  day  when  Jew 
and  Gentile  shall  be  summoned  before  the  judgment 
seat  of  Christ. 

The  correctness  of  our  interpretation  of  the  text, 
as  applied  to  those  to  whom  it  was  at  first  addressed, 
will  be  made  out  more  clearly  by  a  short  account  of 
the  parable,  of  which  it  is  both  the  introduction  and 
conclusion.  The  Kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a 
man  that  is  an  householder,  which  went  out  early  in 
the  morning  to  hire  laborers  into  his  vineyard.  With 
the  first  whom  he  j)rocured,  he  made  an  agreement 
that  they  should  be  rewarded  for  their  toil  at  a  stij^u- 
lated  price.  He  afterwards  employed  others  at  the 
third,  the  sixth,  and  ninth  hours  of  the  day,  with  whom 
the  only  agreement  was,  that  at  the  conclusion  of  their 
labor  they  were  to  receive  whatsoever  was  right.  At 
the  eleventh  hour,  when  the  heat  of  the  day  was  past, 
he  found  others  standing  idle  because  they  had  been 
able  to  procure  no  occupation  ;  these  also  were  sent  to 
the  vineyard,  with  the  promise  of  receiving  a  just 
recompense  for  theii^  labor.     When  the  evening  was 


260  THE   LABOEEES   IIST   THE   VrPfEYAED. 

come,  they  were  all  assembled  to  receive  their  wages. 
Those  who  were  last  employed,  and  had  of  course  per- 
formed the  smallest  portion  of  work,  received  each  the 
same  sum  which  had  been  promised  to  the  laborers 
who  went  early  in  the  morning  to  the  vineyard.  These 
therefore  imagined  that  they  would  obtain  a  larger 
sum  than  that  for  which  they  had  agreed.  But  when 
they  found  that  to  them  was  given  only  the  pay  which 
had  been  promised,  they  murmm^ed  against  the  good 
man  of  the  house,  saying,  these  last  have  wrought  but 
one  hour,  and  thou  hast  made  them  equal  unto  us  who 
have  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  This 
complaint  might  at  first  view  appear  not  altogether 
unfounded.  But  setting  aside  many  reasons  which 
might  be  given  for  this  decision  of  the  householder, 
his  answer  is  sufficient,  when  we  remember  that  the 
parable  was  not  intended  to  be  an  account  of  certain 
transactions  between  man  and  man,  but  as  a  similitude 
by  which  the  conduct  of  Divine  Providence  was  to  be 
illustrated.  The  early  laborers  were  not  treated  with 
injustice,  for  the  agreement  with  them  was  punctually 
fulfilled,  and  it  was  no  concern  of  theirs  if  the  master 
of  the  vineyard,  out  of  his  liberality,  gave  an  equal 
reward  to  the  others  who  were  forced  to  be  idle  for 
want  of  occupation,  and  who,  when  employed,  had.  la- 
bored with  faithful  industry. 

We  come  now  to  the  direct  interpretation  of  the 
parable.  By  the  laborers  who  are  sent  into  the  vine- 
yard early  in  the  morning,  and  at  the  third,  sixth,  and 
ninth  hours  of  the   day,  we  are  to  undei'staud  that 


THE  LAEOEEKS  IN  THE  VENEYAED.       261 

people  to  whom  God  in  tlie  first  ages  of  tlie  world 
communicated  his  Divine  will,  and  gave  at  different 
intervals  Moses  and  the  Prophets  to  make  his  revela- 
tions more  clear  and  definite,  and  to  procure  a  stricter 
obedience  to  his  laws  by  repeated  admonitions  and  ex- 
hortations, and  by  the  j)romises  of  a  reward  to  those  who 
should  serve  him  faithfully.  Those  received  into  the 
vineyard  at  the  eleventh  hour  are  the  Gentiles,  who, 
at  the  coming  of  Christ,  were  admitted  to  equal  privi- 
leges with  the  Jews,  and  were  made  heirs  with  them 
of  the  same  blessed  promises  of  a  future  reward  to  the 
righteous.  By  the  murmuring  of  the  early  laborers, 
when  they  discovered  that  their  reward  was  no  greater 
than  that  of  theu*  fellows  who  had  come  in  only  at  the 
last  hour,  is  represented  the  anger  of  the  Jews  at  the 
declaration  that  the  partition  wall  between  them  and 
the  Gentiles  was  to  be  thrown  down,  and  that  their 
privileges,  as  God's  peculiar  people,  were  now  to  be 
communicated  without  discrimination  to  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  The  answer  of  the  householder  is  in- 
tended to  assert  the  justice  of  this  j)roceeding.  The 
Jews  were  not  treated  with  injustice,  for  all  the  prom- 
ises of  God  to  their  forefathers  had  been  fully  complied 
with.  And,  as  the  great  Lord  of  the  universe,  it  was 
without  doubt  lawful  for  him  to  do  what  he  would 
with  his  own,  and  to  exercise  towards  the  Gentiles  the 
same  loving  mercy  which  he  had  long  shown  to  the 
Jews. 

The  language  of  the  text  and  the  parable  of  which 
it  is  a  part,  having  been  thus  explained  in  its  original 


262  THE   LABOEEPtS   IN   THE   Vri^EYARD. 

application,  we  are  now  to  look  at  it  from  anotlier 
point  of  view,  as  addressed  to  ourselves.  And  can  we 
hesitate  about  its  meaning — shall  we  be  at  a  moment's 
loss  for  the  illustration  of  these  words  as  applied  to 
Christians  of  the  present  day,  the  last  shall  be  first, 
and  the  first  last  ?  No,  my  brethren.  The  meaning 
is  explained,  the  illustration  is  presented  to  us  when- 
ever we  behold  those  w^ho  have  possessed  the  best  ad- 
vantages for  religious  improvement,  pious  parentage, 
early  instrnction,  good  examples,  frequent  admonitions, 
and  every  other  assistance  and  incentive  to  a  holy  life, 
who  have  yet  in  the  progress  of  years  forgotten  the 
lessons  of  their  youth,  despised  the  faithful  reproofs 
of  a  father,  the  fervent  prayers  of  a  mother,  neglected 
the  precepts  of  the  religion  into  which  they  were  bap- 
tized, have  gone  on  from  error  to  sin,  and  from  sin  to 
depravity,  and  have  left  the  world  of  j)robation  to 
carry  to  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  the  account  of 
privileges  wantonly  abused,  and  opportunities  crimi- 
nally neglected.  Surely  these  have  been  first  in  the 
favor  of  heaven  as  regards  their  religious  advantages ; 
but  the  justice  of  the  great  day  will  require  that  they 
be  among  the  last,  when  assembled  worlds  are  sum- 
moned to  final  judgment. 

But  we  may  behold,  also,  the  opposite  of  this 
description.  The  last  have  become  fii'st.  We  have 
seen  those  into  whose  path  every  obstacle  has  been 
thrown,  which  could  check  their  j^rogress  in  religious 
knowledge  and  obedience ;  early  education  neglected ; 
the  constant  presence  of  bad  examples ;  strong  tempta- 


( 


THE  LABOEEES  IN  THE  VINEYAED.       263 

tions  to  vice  set  before  tliem ;  opportunities  for  public 
worship  seldoui  obtained ;  and  yet  tliey  liave  gone  on 
with  a  determined  and  undeviating  stej),  tlieir  course 
has  grown  brighter  and  brighter,  till  at  last  their  pil- 
grimage completed,  they  have  left  the  scene  of  their 
trials  and  sufferings  in  the  joyful  hojDe  and  undoubting 
faith  of  a  blessed  immortality.  These,  we  must  ac- 
knowledge, have  been  last  in  the  enjoyment  of  those 
means  which  assist  the  Christian  in  his  religious  war- 
fare, and  yet  they  will  be  first  when  the  crowns  are 
distributed,  and  the  victorious  are  received  into  glory 
with  the  acclamation  of  angels,  and  the  cheering  praises 
of  the  great  Captain  of  our  Salvation. 

The  whole  parable,  as  well  as  that  part  of  it  which 
we  have  made  our  text,  may  be  considered  as  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  varieties  we  observe  in  the  religious 
state  of  mankind.  Some  are,  by  the  Providence  of 
God,  drawn  in  early  life  to  feel  the  importance  of  reli- 
gion. They  are  the  laborers  first  sent  into  the  vine- 
yard. Upon  others,  the  same  effect  is  not  j)i'oduced 
till  the  third,  the  sixth,  or  the  ninth  hour.  There 
are  those  again  who  are  not  roused  to  a  sense  of  their 
condition,  as  unrepentant  sinners,  till  their  day  of  jdto- 
bation  has  gone  on  to  the  eleventh  hour,  and  has  almost 
terminated.  But  here  the  analogy  between  the  labor- 
ers in  the  parable,  and  men  to  whom  the  call  of  the 
Gospel  is  given,  will,  in  some  respects,  fail.  They  stood 
idle  in  the  market-place,  because  no  employment  was 
offered  to  them.  It  was  not  to  be  charged  u23on  them 
as  a  fault,  that  theii'  work  had  commenced  when  the 


264       THE  LABOEEES  IN  THE  VINEYAED. 

day  was  partly  gone.  Tliey  seized  tlie  first  opportu- 
nity presented,  and  worked  so  faithfully,  that  the  just 
householder  would  not  allow  them  to  suffer,  because 
they  had  not  been  hired  before,  but  rewarded  their 
good  intentions,  and  gave  to  them  equal  wages  with 
those  whom  accidental  circumstances  had  brought  ear- 
lier into  his  vineyard.  But  how  many,  my  brethren, 
in  a  Christian  community,  can  say,  when  asked  in  refer- 
ence to  then*  religious  occupations,  why  stand  ye  all 
the  day  idle  ?  how  many  can  say  no  man  hath  hired 
us ;  we  have  never  had  the  opportunity  to  begin  the 
duties  of  a  religious  life ;  no  one  hath  ever  called  our 
attention  to  these  things  ?  Such  excuses  cannot  be 
offered  by  those  to  whom  the  message  of  the  Gospel 
has  been  delivered ;  they  have  had  the  opportunity  of 
employment  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  It  is  not 
among  Christians  in  a  Christian  community,  that  we 
may  expect  to  find  those  who  have  innocently  remained 
unemployed  in  the  great  duties  of  religion  till  the 
eleventh  hour.  No:  we  must  look  for  them  where 
Gospel  pri^dleges  have  been  rarely,  and  perhaps,  never 
enjoyed ;  where  no  convenient  temple  has  been  reared 
to  the  service  of  God ;  where  no  ambassadors  of  Christ 
have  been  established  to  proclaim  the  terms  of  recon- 
ciliation between  God  and  man.  There  we  may  find 
those  who  can,  with  truth  and  justice,  plead  as  their 
excuse,  that  no  man  hath  hii-ed  them.  But  in  this 
community,  where  a  church  of  God  presents  itself  to 
the  eye  in  every  direction ;  where  the  incense  of  prayer 
is  weekly  burnt  upon  an  hundred  altars ;  where  the 


THE  LABOEEES  IN  THE  VTNEYAED.       265 

ministers  of  religion  are  in  tlie  constant  exercise  of  their 
duty  in  calling  sinners  to  repentance ;  wliere  no  one 
need  hunger  for  the  Bread  of  Life,  but  some  Christian 
hand  can  be  found  to  offer  it ;  who  can  say  that  his 
neoflect  of  reliQ:ion  has  been  without  his  own  fault? 
that  he  has  stood,  ready  to  give  himself  up  to  the 
labors  of  the  Christian  life,  but  no  one  was  found  to 
encourage  or  lead  him  forward  ?  No ;  where  there  has 
been  indifference  to  religion,  and  a  backwardness  in 
performing  its  duties,  there  has  been  guilty  neglect. 
We  do  not  say  that  all  are  equally  criminal,  Tvho  have 
heretofore  neglected  their  religious  concerns.  There 
are  many  causes  not  within  the  control  of  the  indi- 
vidual, which  conspire  to  shut  out  from  his  attention 
the  great  concerns  of  his  immortal  soul.  The  seeds  of 
early  piety  may  never  have  been  planted  in  his  mind 
by  a  parent's  hand;  on  the  contrary,  he  may  have 
been  suffered  to  grow  up  in  ignorance  of  rehgion,  and, 
perhaps,  under  the  influence  of  strong  prejudice  against 
it ;  temptations  to  vice,  instead  of  allurements  to  vii'- 
tue,  may  have  been  j)laced  before  his  youthful  eyes ; 
and  thus  he  may  have  to  break  through  a  thick  cloud 
of  moral  darkness,  before  he  can  behold  the  celestial 
light  of  virtue,  or  feel  the  genial  warmth  of  piety. 
But  all  the  hindrances  which  may  have  operated  to 
keep  us  back  from  religion  till  the  third,  the  sixth,  or 
even  the  eleventh  hour,  will  be  taken  into  the  account 
by  our  righteous  and  merciful  Judge.  And  our  para- 
ble gives  us  the  assurance  that  he  will  be  favorable  to 
our  frailties  and  involuntary  errors. 


266  THE   LABOEEES   IN   THE   vmEYAED. 

The  laborers  who  worked  but  one  hour  in  the 
vineyard,  were  equally  rewarded  with  those  who 
had  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  because 
they  had  found  no  oj^portunity  for  employment,  and 
were  not  criminal  in  their  idleness.  Thus  will  it  be 
with  those  who,  by  the  operation  of  circumstances 
without  their  control,  have  lived  ignorant  of  God  and 
religion,  till  the  evening  hours  of  the  day  of  life.  If 
then  they  obey  the  call  of  theii'  heavenly  Master,  and 
enter  with  zeal  and  activity  into  his  service,  and  labor 
faithfully  in  his  vineyard,  even  though  their  time  be 
short,  they  shall  not  lose  their  reward.  Ha\dng  made 
the  best  use  of  the  opportunity  afforded  them,  they 
will,  at  the  day  of  judgment,  be  made  equal  to  those 
who,  being  earlier  called,  have  borne  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day. 

But  let  not  this  decision,  so  favorable  to  one  de- 
scription of  persons  who  are  converts  late  in  life,  be 
perverted  from  its  true  design,  and  be  taken  as  an  en- 
couragement to  the  young,  to  look  forward  for  the 
commencement  of  their  religious  life  to  the  eleventh 
hour.  Think  you,  if  the  laborers  who  were  summoned 
at  the  third  hour,  had  still  remained  wasting  their  pre- 
cious time  till  the  ninth,  or  the  eleventh,  that  they 
would  have  received  the  reward  of  the  industrious  i 
By  no  means.  They  would  have  been  counted  unpro- 
fitable servants,  and  their  recompense  would  have  been 
small  in  proportion  to  their  indifference  to  the  interests 
of  their  employer. 

To  secure  the  favor  of  our  God,  we  must  then 


THE    LABOEEES   IN   THE   VINEYAED.  267 

engage  in  his  service  promptly  and  clieerfully,  and  we 
must  bear,  if  it  shall  please  him  to  assign  it  to  us,  with 
patience  and  fortitude,  the  burden  and  heat  of  a  long 
day  of  probation  ;  or  if  he  has  called  us  into  his  vine- 
yard at  a  later  period,  we  must  quicken  our  diligence 
and  activity,  and  not  despond  because  our  task  is  greater 
and  our  time  shorter ;  but  be  animated  with  the  hope 
of  a  reward  which  is  not  to  be  assigned  in  proportion 
to  the  value  of  our  labor,  for  then,  alas !  it  would  be 
small  indeed  ;  but  which  shall,  through  the  merits  of 
the  Redeemer,  be  conferred  on  all  who  are  anxious 
to  know  the  v.dll  of  God,  and  faithful  and  assiduous 
in  their  efforts  to  obey  it. 


THE  NATURE  AND  REASONABLENESS  OE 
SELE-DENIAL. 


Ltjke  IX.  23. 

And  lie  said  to  them  all,  If  any  man  wiU  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
himself,  and  take  np  his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me. 

If  there  are  some  tilings  in  the  Scriptures  hard  to 
be  understood,  there  are  perhaps  more  which  are  dif- 
ficult to  be  practised.  And  of  these  requisitions,  self- 
denial  is  the  most  difficult,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the 
most  important.  For  he  who  has  learned  to  deny 
himself,  has  overcome  the  principal  obstacle  to  the 
performance  of  all  the  other  duties  enjoined  upon  us 
by  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  We  cannot  be  surprised, 
then,  at  the  explicit  declaration  of  our  Saviour  in  the 
text.  He  announces  to  all  men  the  conditions  upon 
which  alone  they  can  become  his  disciples.  "  If  any 
man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take 
up  his  cross  daily." 

Here  are  two  duties  mentioned :    1st,  self-denial, 


THE   NATUEE   OF   SELF-DENIAL.  269 

which  consists  in  overcoming  temptations  from  within 
that  arise  from  the  fault  of  our  corrupt  nature ;  2d, 
taking  up  the  cross,  which  is  a  conquest  over  temp- 
tations from  without  that  spring  from  the  disorders  of 
a  fallen  world.  These  are  both,  subjects  of  the  deepest 
importance  to  the  Christian,  and  they  require  very 
careful  consideration.  For  the  present,  however,  self- 
denial  is  our  theme,  and  your  attention  is  requested 
while  we  endeavor  to  show  its  nature,  and  the  reason- 
ableness of  its  being  required  from  every  one  who 
would  be  a  disciple  of  Christ. 

Self-deis^ial.  There  is  something  in  this  expression 
repulsive  to  the  natural  man,  because  it  reminds  him  of 
sacrifices  and  restraints  which,  he  is  unwillino:  to  under- 
go.  He  therefore  represents  them  as  cruel  and  unneces- 
sary. He  accuses  religion  of  attempting  to  extinguish  tlie 
obvious  propensities  of  our  nature,  and  to  enjoin  ujion 
us  a  course  of  rigid  abstinence  and  mortification.  He 
will  talk  loudly  of  monkisli  austerities,  and  the  gloomy 
morality  of  modern  enthusiasts.  What !  he  will  say, 
could  a  wise  and  gracious  God  ever  have  implanted 
desires  in  our  breasts  for  the  sake  only  of  making  us 
restrain  them  ?  does  He  discountenance  our  indulging 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  and  partaking  freely  of 
those  bounties  which  He  has  so  profusely  scattered 
around  us  ?  This  is  impossible,  he  exclaims :  those 
who  teach  self-denial  must  teach  a  relio-ion  which  never 
came  from  the  Author  of  all  good.  All  this  and  much 
more  is  said  by  those  who  have  never  entered  into  the 
true  spirit  of  religion.     Had  they  examined  into  the 


270  THE    NATURE    OF    SELF-DENIAL. 

nature  of  Christian  self-denial,  they  would  have  found 
that  its  practice,  so  far  from  lessening  our  satisfactions, 
will  actually  increase  them, — so  far  from  forbidding 
reasonable  indulgence,  will  keep  indulgence  within  the 
bounds  where  Adrtuous  pleasure  is  associated  with  it. 

Self-denial  does  not  consist  in  abandonino^  the 
world,  and  passing  a  life  of  seclusion ;  nor  does  it 
consist  in  fasting  or  afflicting  the  body  with  scourges. 
No,  my  brethren,  we  must  acknowledge  that  it  is  some- 
thing more  even  than  this.  It  is  comparatively  easy 
to  afflict  the  body ;  but  the  duty  of  which  we  are 
speaking  is  concerned  with  the  mind,  and  consists  in 
restraints  imposed  upon  its  unlawful  desires.  Separated 
from  its  imaginary  attendants,  it  will  be  found  to  be 
nothing  else  to  the  sound  mind  but  what  temperance 
is  to  the  body,  and  the  only  infallible  means  of  re- 
storing health  and  quiet  to  a  disordered  and  troubled 
mind.  It  may  be  clothed  in  pur^^le  as  well  as  sack- 
cloth ;  and  be  cultivated  in  the  most  distinguished  and 
affluent,  as  well  as  in  mean  and  scanty  circumstances  : 
nay,  its  \ictory  and  triumph  will  be  the  more  complete 
in  stations  of  dignity,  wealth,  and  honor,  if  it  re23els 
luxury  and  insolence,  than  they  can  be  in  a  lower  and 
more  limited  sphere  of  action  where  there  are  much 
fewer  temptations  to  excess. 

But  this  duty  will  be  better  understood  as  we  pro- 
ceed to  show  the  reasonableness  of  its  being  requii-ed 
of  the  Christian.  This  is  asserted  on  the  orround  of 
human  depravity.  Were  our  nature  pure  and  perfect, 
it  is  obvious  that  we  might  safely  indulge  the  free 


THE   NATURE    OF   SELF-DENIAL  271 

exercise  of  our  passions  and  inclinations.  Kestraints 
would  tlien  be  useless,  if  not  injurious,  for  men  would 
only  follow  after  virtue  and  holiness.  But  the  Scrip- 
tures assert  that  our  nature  is  corrupt  and  fallen,  and 
inclined  to  evil  continually.  There  is  no  doctrine  of 
the  Sacred  Volume  more  fully  and  frequently  asserted. 
And  even  without  the  declarations  of  revealed  truth, 
would  not  experience  lead  us  to  the  same  conclusion  ? 
We  would  not  now  enter  into  any  controversy  about 
the  degree  of  this  depravity ;  but  who  that  has  been 
at  all  conversant  with  men,  nay,  who  that  has  watched 
the  opening  faculties  and  passions  of  infancy  and  youth, 
can  doubt  that  man  is  by  nature  incHned  to  criminal 
self-indulgence  ?  If  so,  can  we  doubt  about  the  pro- 
priety and  importance  of  practising  self-denial  ?  What 
would  be  the  result  if  we  were  to  allow  our  children  a 
free  indulgence  in  all  their  desires,  if  we  were  never 
to  impose  upon  them  restrictions  of  any  kind,  or  exer- 
cise over  them  any  system  of  discipline  ?  Should  we 
not  have  every  reason  to  expect  that  they  would  grow 
up  vicious  and  headstrong  ?  and  that,  if  good  sense  and 
religious  principle  did  not  afterwards  correct  the  evil 
propensities  which  indulgence  had  strengthened,  ma- 
turity of  age  would  l^e  maturity  of  folly  and  iniquity  ? 
But  if  the  consequences  of  neglected  discii^line  are 
thus  deplorable,  the  advantages  of  early  and  judicious 
restraint  are  not  less  obvious.  A  virtuous  and  haj^py 
manhood  will  almost  uniformly  be  the  condition  of  him 
who  has  been  made  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.  It 
is  true,  we  may  sometimes  be  disappointed   in   this 


272  THE   NATURE   OF   SELF-DEISTIAL. 

result.  We  may  notice  tliat  a  severe  discipline  is  occa- 
sionally followed  by  tlie  same  consequences  as  a  neg- 
lected one.  But  this  is  because  it  has  been  severe, 
and  not  judicious.  Restraints,  when  imposed  upon 
children  without  reason,  and  to  an  immoderate  degree, 
will  produce  a  rebellion  of  the  will  that  must  show 
itself  sooner  or  later.  A  sense  of  just  or  unjust  treat- 
ment is  very  early  developed ;  and  if  a  child  be  cor- 
rected only  for  wilful  errors,  and  be  restrained  only 
from  improper  indulgences,  its  own  good  sense  and 
natural  conscience  will  soon  acquiesce  in  the  decision. 
And  this  discipline,  which  is  so  essential  to  the  wel- 
fare and  happiness  of  children,  is  equally  important  in 
advancing  years.  Only,  as  in  childhood  it  is  imposed 
by  authority ;  when  we  arrive  at  years  of  discretion 
it  should  be  assumed  in  a  voluntary  manner.  And 
thus  it  becomes  self-denial.  It  is  essential  to  wisdom 
and  virtue.  No  one  naturally  loves  the  application  by 
which  knowledge  can  alone  be  acquired,  and  no  one 
naturally  loves  the  severities  connected  with  the  culti- 
vation of  wtuous  habits, — by  consequence,  to  be  wise 
and  good,  we  must  practise  self-denial.  Is  it  not,  there- 
fore, a  Mud  as  well  as  reasonable  precept  of  the  Sacred 
Volume  which  imposes  self-denial  u^Don  us  ?  Do  we 
not  discover  in  it  the  affectionate  regard  of  a  Father, 
and  by  no  means  the  command  of  a  cruel  tyi'ant  ? 
Our  reason  approves  all  that  religion  demands.  Even 
many  of  the  systems  of  heathen  philosophy  adopted  and 
taught  the  precept  of  our  text.  Any  one  indeed  who 
should  declare  that  restraints  were  unnecessary,  would 


THE   NATUKE   OF   SELF-DEIiTIAL.  2*73 

prove  liimself  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  man  and  liis 
present  state  of  existence. 

But  the  important  question  now  arises,  in  what 
consists  the  precept  of  our  text?  We  acknowledge 
that  he  who  would  be  a  follower  of  Christ  must  deny 
himself, — but  deny  himself  what  ?  Upon  this  subject 
there  have  been  great  differences  of  opinion  and  of 
practice.  The  history  of  religion  will  present  to  us 
many  instances  of  most  appalling  austerities  which 
have  been  voluntarily  endured  for  conscience'  sake, 
and  the  body  has  been  punished,  with  stripes  and 
maceration,  for  the  sins  of  the  soul.  And  in  one  form 
of  Christianity  at  the  present  day,  this  mistaken  view 
of  religion  is  presented  to  its  votaries.  That  we  are 
to  keep  the  body  in  subjection,  is  a  most  undeniable 
and  imj)ortant  demand  of  the  Gospel ;  but  we  nowhere 
read  that  stripes  and  cruelties  are  to  be  inflicted  upon 
it.  This  idea  arises  from  a  false  and  degraded  rej^re- 
sentation  of  religion.  The  Gospel  of  Christ  is  emi- 
nently spiritual,  and  outward  forms  and  outward  disci- 
pline are  no  farther  required  than  as  they  promote 
pm'ity  of  heart. 

We  come  then  to  this  principle,  that  the  Christian 
must  deny  himself  every  thing  that  can  interfere  with 
spiritual  improvement.  We  need  not  state  that  worldly 
lusts,  those  which  war  against  the  soul,  are  to  be  wholly 
abandoned.  It  would  imply  great  ignorance  of  the 
first  principles  of  religion  among  you,  my  l)rethren,  if 
we  were  to  set  about  proving  that  pride,  envy,  anger, 
revenge,  and  all  such  passions  are  among  the  things 
18 


274  THE   NATUKE    OF   SELF-DENIAL. 

wMcb  we  are  to  deny.  It  is  in  reference  to  all  these 
evil  propensities,  tliat  the  Scriptures  in  frequent  places 
command  us  to  mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  to  cru- 
cify the  old  man  with  his  affections  and  lusts.  But  it 
is  not  merely  to  our  outward  conduct  that  this  self- 
denial  is  to  extend.  Most  of  the  actions  of  gross  vice 
are  prohibited  by  the  laws  of  society.  The  laws  of 
society  however  can  take  cognizance  only  of  external 
conduct,  whereas  religion  reaches  the  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  heart.  Not  only  must  vicious  indul- 
gences be  denied,  but  vain  and  worldly  and  impure 
thoufifhts  must  be  restrained. 

In  this  respect  we  have  reason  to  fear  that  often 
the  authority  of  our  text  is  not  felt  and  applied.  So 
long  as  the  aj)petites  and  passions  are  kej^t  within  a 
good  degree  of  control,  the  individual  thinks  little  of 
what  St.  Paul  terms  the  "  hidden  man  of  the  heart." 
And  yet  it  is  here  that  religion  must  exist,  if  anywhere. 
It  is  not  by  the  bended  knee,  and  by  the  words  of  the 
lips,  that  God  is  praised,  nor  is  it  by  freedom  from 
vicious  conduct,  that  the  precept  of  his  Son  is  complied 
with.  As  true  spiritual  worship  must  arise  from  the 
heart,  so  true  self-denial  must  be  exercised  over 
thoughts  and  sentiments.  And  here,  brethren,  we 
feel  the  real  difficulty  of  being  religious. 

It  is  very  little  to  the  credit  of  a  man  that  his  de- 
portment should  be  moral,  and  that  he  should  even 
attend  to  the  ordinances  of  religion.  Because,  for  all 
this  he  may  have  worldly  and  corrupt  reasons.  He 
knows  that  he  will  gain  the  confidence  and  esteem  of 


THE   IS'ATUEE    OF   SELF-DEISTIAL.  275 

his  fellow-men  by  a  moral  deportment.  But  would  he 
put  to  the  test  the  power  and  value  of  his  religious 
principles  :  let  him  examine  himself  in  res]3ect  of  that 
conduct  which  is  hidden  from  the  sight  of  men.  If 
he  would  not  steal  from  his  neighbor  or  defraud  him, 
does  he  never  covet  his  possessions, — does  he  never 
take  advantage  of  his  ignorance  or  necessities  in  deal- 
ing with  him, — does  he  never  engage  in  a  transaction, 
with  motives  which  he  would  not  dare  to  acknowledge, 
although  the  law,  and  perhaps  custom,  pould  not  inter- 
fere with  its  details  ?  And  again,  although  he  would 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  destroying  his  neighbor  by 
violence,  does  he  never  indulge  in  the  recesses  of  his 
heart  angry  and  revengeful  passions,  and  wish  that 
evil  may  come  to  him,  although  he  would  not  himself 
be  the  instrument  to  inflict  it  ?  And  again,  although 
he  would  not  ^dolate  the  commandments,  or  the  laws 
of  social  honor,  does  he  never  indulge  sentiments 
which  are  as  corrupting  as  the  deeds  of  sin,  and 
cherish  passions  which  he  dare  not,  for  the  price  of  his 
worldly  reputation,  avow  ?  Let  not  any  one  imagine 
that  he  fulfils  the  precept  of  the  text  till  he  applies  it 
in  cases  which  no  eye  can  see  but  the  eye  of  God,  and 
till  self-denial  keeps  his  heart  as  pure  as  his  outward 
conduct. 

In  order  to  attain  this  holy  and  happy  state,  much 
severe  discipline  must  be  undergone,  and  many  indul- 
gences we  must  learn  to  deny  ourselves  which  are  not 
expressly  forbidden.  It  is  a  maxim  of  the  truest 
wisdom,  that  "he  who  would  possess  the  power  of 


2*76  THE   NATURE    OF   SELF-DENIAL. 

self-control  in  tilings  unlawful,  must  sometimes  exercise 
it  in  things  lawful."  Would  you  avoid  the  danger  of 
falling,  approach  not  too  near  the  limits  of  the  giddy 
precipice.  But  if  it  be  asked,  where  is  the  boundary 
line  to  be  established,  and  how  may  we  know  when 
we  have  advanced  to  it  ?  We  reply,  that  in  regard 
to  this  matter  no  general  rule  can  be  given.  The  char- 
acters and  circumstances  of  individuals  are  so  various, 
that  what  to  one  would  l)e  an  allowable  gratification, 
to  another  would  be  criminal  indulgence. 

In  reference  to  worldly  pleasures  and  occupations, 
men  are  apt  to  reason  in  too  abstract  a  manner.  They 
will,  perhaps,  endeavor  to  understand  what  is  allowed 
and  what  prohibited,  by  the  laws  of  religion  and  mo- 
rality, and  will  be  satisfied  to  restrain  themselves  in 
this  manner.  They  will  say,  we  can  perceive  no  harm 
in  doing  this  action,  or  indulging  in  this  innocent  grati- 
fication ;  the  Scriptures  contain  no  express  command 
against  it.  But  he  who  conforms  only  to  the  letter 
of  the  Gospel,  will  imbibe  very  little  of  its  spirit. 
Every  action  should  be  referred  to  ourselves,  and  its 
innocence  or  guilt  should  be  estimated  by  the  influence 
it  exerts  upon  our  characters.  The  question  is  not 
w^hether  any  particular  indulgence  is  innocent  in  itself, 
but  whether  it  is  innocent  to  you  individually.  One 
is  of  so  cautious  and  phlegmatic  a  temperament,  that 
he  may  be  engaged  in  worldly  pleasures,  and  appear 
almost  enveloped  by  them,  and  yet  be  uninjured.  The 
gay  scene  passes  by  him  like  the  winds  of  the  north 
over  mountains  of  snow  ;  w^hile  to  another  the  circle 


THE   NATURE   OF   SELF-DENIAL.  277 

of  pleasure  is  lilce  the  breatli  of  tlie  desert.  It  dries  up 
the  dews  of  the  spirit,  and  parches  and  blights  the 
buddings  of  virtuous  effort. 

Against  the  authority  of  custom,  and  the  influence 
of  example,  we  should  ever  be  on  our  guard.  The 
extent  of  our  indulgences  in  what  are  termed  innocent 
gratifications,  should  be  governed  by  our  own  expe- 
rience. Upon  this  subject  the  amiable  and  pious 
Bishop  Home  has  given  us  an  admirable  rule  of  con- 
duct. "When,"  says  he,  "we  return  home  in  the 
evening,  before  we  retire  to  our  rest,  let  us  sometimes 
read  over  the  first  twelve  verses  of  our  Lord's  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  observe  how  our  minds  stand 
affected  towards  them.  If  at  any  time  we  are  in 
doubt  concerning  a  particular  employment  or  amuse- 
ment, instead  of  inquiring  nicely  into  the  lawfulness 
of  it,  and  whether  there  be  in  Scripture  any  special 
prohibition  of  it,  the  shorter  and  safer  way  is  to  ask 
one's-self,  whether  it  be  agreeable  to  the  general  spirit 
of  Christianity?  whether  it  tend  to  beget  and  in- 
crease in  us  all  the  holy  tempers  of  that  Divine  re- 
Ugion,  or  to  suppress  and  extinguish  them  ? "  These, 
my  brethren,  are  observations  dictated  by  the  spirit 
of  piety  and  a  knowledge  of  human  nature.  A  con- 
formity with  them  will  be  the  surest  method  of  enter- 
ing mto  the  true  meaning  and  extent  of  Christian 
self-denial.  How^ever  correct  and  moral  we  may  sup- 
pose our  lives  to  be,  still,  if  adhering  to  the  rules  we 
have  adopted  costs  us  no  pains  and  sacrifices,  let  us  be 
assured  that  we  have  not  yet  risen  to  the  elevated 


278  THE   NATUEE   OF   SELF-DENIAL. 

standard  of  Christian  perfection.  The  follower  of 
Christ  must  deny  himself ;  he  cannot  escape  this  trial 
of  his  virtue  and  sincerity.  If  his  goodness  is  easy  to 
him,  he  may  be  assured  that  his  goodness  is  of  a 
quality  far  inferior  to  that  which  the  Gosj^el  enjoins. 

Such  are  our  observations  upon  the  nature  and  the 
reasonableness  of  self-denial.  You  may  say,  this  is  a 
hard  saying,  who  can  bear  it  ?  Who  ?  The  Christian 
can  and  does  ;  and  he  must  bear  it,  or  he  belongs  not 
to  Christ.  We  do  not  expect  the  man  of  the  world  to 
bear  it.  To  deny  himself  is  as  contrary  to  his  princi- 
ples as  to  his  practice.  Self-gratification  is  all  his 
object.  His  constant  search  is  after  what  will  please 
him,  not  what  will  improve  and  elevate  his  moral  char- 
acter. We  anticipate  from  him  disapprobation  of  our 
doctrine.  But  let  him  not  say  that  it  is  unreasonable, 
for  out  of  his  own  mouth  and  conduct  will  we  condemn 
him.  Ask  him,  whether  it  would  not  be  prudent  and 
proper  and  laudable  for  the  man  who  wished  to  secure 
himself  a  comfortable  independence,  to  abstain  from 
many  pleasures,  to  practise  a  rigid  economy,  and  eat 
the  bread  of  carefulness  and  industry  ?  Ask  him,  if  to 
gain  worldly  reputation  he  would  not  approve  the 
conduct  of  him  who  should  spend  days  and  nights  in 
laborious  study  ?  Why,  then,  why  should  not  the 
Christian  deny  himself  many  pleasures,  whose  great 
desire  is  to  gain  the  treasure  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven ;  and  why  should  he  not  cheerfully  endure  a 
hard  discipline  to  obtain  the  honor  which  cometh  from 
God? 


TIIE   NATURE   OF   SELF-DENIAL.  279 

Yes,  my  brethren,  we  acknowledge  tbat  the  pre- 
cept of  our  text  will  give  you  some  pain  to  observe 
it,  but  we  at  tlie  same  time  declare  that  your  reward 
shall  be  great.  The  consideration  of  this  is  our  sup- 
port and  encouragement.  We  are  called  upon  to  deny 
ourselves  and  to  follow  Christ, — to  follow  him  through 
the  scenes  of  our  earthly  j)ilgrimage,  to  the  mansions 
of  eternal  blessedness.  He  has  gone  the  way  before 
us,  and  has  smoothed  many  of  its  asperities,  and  he 
will  encourage  us  by  the  aids  of  his  Holy  Spirit.  Let 
us  not  faint  or  be  discouraged,  for  he  is  faithful  who 
hath  promised ;  and  if  we  attain  his  promises,  we  shall 
look  back  upon  our  life  of  self-denial  as  the  slight  dis- 
comforts of  our  journey.  For  we  shall  be  in  habita- 
tions of  jDcace  and  rest,  and  shall  be  surrounded  by 
happy  and  contented  spiiits,  and  the  light  of  God's 
reconciled  countenance  shall  shine  upon  us,  and  bless 
us  through  all  eternity. 


THE  WITNESS  OE  THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE 
SOUL  OE  MAN. 


1  John  v.    10. 
He  that  believetli  on  the  Son  of  God  hath  the  witness  in  himself. 

This  passage  of  Scripture  lias  received  various  in- 
terpretations;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  occupy  your  time 
with  a  comparative  examination  of  their  merits.  In  a 
very  few  words  I  will  state  my  understanding  of  the 
text,  before  I  proceed  to  the  practical  use  which  I  de- 
sign to  make  of  it. 

The  ■  evidences  of  religion  are  generally  arranged  "I 
under  two  heads,  the  external  and  the  internal ;  the 
external,  consisting  of  those  which  are  derived  from  the 
historical  proof  of  the  miracles,  and  the  fulfilment  of 
prophecy ;  the  internal,  from  the  character  of  the  re- 
ligion itself,  and  its  adaptation  to  the  nature  and  the 
wants  of  man,  and  his  condition  in  this  world.  Now 
the  first  kind  of  evidence  mentioned,  although  abso- 
lutely essential  to  the  full  establishment  of  our  holy 


THE   WITNESS    OF   THE   SPIEIT.  281 

faith,  is  by  no  means  tlie  one  which  supports  the  belief 
of  the  largest  number  of  persons,  nor  does  it  exert  the 
most  powerful  influence  upon  the  minds  of  men  in 
general.  The  great  body  of  those  to  whom  the  ques- 
tion of  accepting  or  rejecting  the  Gospel  is  presented, 
have  neither  the  preliminary  knowledge,  nor  the  books, 
nor  the  time  which  are  requisite  for  entering  upon  a 
full  and  satisfactory  examination  of  the  external  evi- 
dence for  its  truth.  What  is  it,  then,  which  first  pro- 
duces and  afterwards  maintains  their  faith  ?  It  is  un- 
questionably the  influence  of  the  internal  evidence,  the 
nature  of  the  religion  itself,  and  its  perfect  adaptation 
to  the  wants  of  that  immaterial  part  of  his  being, 
which  every  man  feels  to  be  within  this  material  body, 
and  which  no  man  ever  confounded  with  the  body, 
unless  he  were  first  spoiled  by  philosophy  and  vain 
deceit.  True  philosophy,  as  well  as  religion,  teaches  us 
that  we  have  each  a  single,  individual,  rational  and  im- 
mortal essence,  which  we  call  sometimes  the  soul,  some- 
times the  spirit.  But  though  one  and  indivisible,  yet 
it  acts  in  several  capacities, — for  example,  as  a  judge, 
in  the  conflicts  which  take  place  between  its  own  cor- 
rupt passions  and  its  virtuous  propensities  and  princi- 
ples, and  again  as  an  accuser  of  self,  when  it  has  been 
guilty  of  sin,  as  is  experienced  in  the  pangs  of  con- 
science. It  may  also  stand  up  as  a  witness  to  itself  of 
the  reality  of  facts,  and  the  truth  of  doctrines ;  as  for 
instance,  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  sacra- 
ments, and  operation  of  this  Spirit  in  converting  and 
sanctifying  the  heart. 


282  THE  WITNESS  OF  THE  SPIEIT 

In  oui'  text  it  is  spoken  of  as  a  witness  to  tlie  truth, 
of  tlie  whole  Gospel,  for  he  that  believeth.  on  the  Son 
of  God  o-ives  his  cordial  assent  to  all  that  lie  was,  and 
all  that  lie  did,  and  all  that  he  tanght.  ISTow  tliis  as- 
sent may  be  produced  by  the  application  of  the  evi- 
dences for  the  truth  of  Christianity  to  the  understand- 
ing, but  in  order  to  its  being  of  any  practical  value, 
there  must  be  a  concurrence  of  the  witness  of  the 
Spirit,  and  this  inward  witness  may  do  its  work,  and 
establish  in  the  heart  of  the  believer  a  firm  conviction 
of  the  truth:  of  religion,  independently  of  the  process 
which  the  external  evidence  requires.  Therefore,  lie 
that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God,  in  whatever  way  this 
belief  may  have  been  produced,  if  it  be  a  real,  vital, 
saving  faith,  he  has  the  witness  of  its  existence  in 
himself. 

But  in  regard  to  this  kind  of  evidence  for  the  truth 
of  tlie  Gospel,  I  must  direct  your  attention  to  one  im- 
portant observation  before  I  proceed.  To  every  man 
it  is  tlie  strongest  evidence  which  he  can  possibly  ob- 
tain ;  for  it  comes  into  closer  contact  with  his  mind,  it 
exerts  a  more  controlling  power  over  Ms  actions,  and 
gives  him  far  greater  peace  and  joy  in  believing,  than 
any  amount  whatever  of  external  evidence.  But  it 
cannot  with  propriety  be  addressed  in  the  way  of  ar- 
gument with  the  unbeliever,  for  it  cannot  be  presented 
to  any  mind  but  that  in  which  it  exists.  No  man  can 
tell  what  I  think  and  feel.  He  can  only  form  an  un- 
certain judgment  of  this  by  my  outward  actions.  Of 
what  passes  in  my  heart  he  must  be  ignorant,  unless  I 


IN  THE   SOUL    OF   MAN.  283 

reveal  it  to  him.  And,  therefore,  to  plead  the  opera- 
tion of  religion  upon  my  heart  as  a  proof  of  its  truth, 
is  merely  to  call  upon  him  to  receive  my  assertion. 
But,  though  no  argument  to  him,  by  which  he  can 
logically  be  bound,  to  me  it  is  stronger  than  the  most 
lucid  mathematical  demonstration. 

Vie  are  now  prepared  to  ask  how  this  "witness  is 
produced  in  the  heart  of  every  one  who  is  conscious  of 
its  existence,  and  in  what  manner  we  can  be  assured 
that  it  is  a  ftiithful  and  true  witness.  To  these  two 
points  the  remainder  of  my  discourse  will  be  limited. 

"  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  hath  the 
witness  in  himself  "  AATience,  then,  is  this  witness  de- 
rived ?  Is  it  self-originated,  that  is,  is  it  produced  by 
the  action  of  the  mind  upon  itself,  and  upon  the  evi- 
dences that  are  presented  from  some  external  source 
for  its  contemplation  ?  We  are  satisfied  that  all  secu- 
lar knowledge  is  thus  obtained ;  we  can  trace  it  to  the 
notices  which  the  senses  convey  to  the  thinking  prin- 
ciple within  us,  and  to  the  exercises  of  this  thinking 
principle.  But  not  so  vnth  faith;  it  is  the  gift  of  God, 
it  is  a  communication  from  his  Spirit,  and  therefore  a 
man  may  understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge, 
and  yet  be  as  destitute  of  faith  as  he  may  be  of  chari- 
ty. There  is  doubtless  a  species  of  faith,  which  is  en- 
tirely of  intellectual  origin ;  that  is,  it  is  an  assent  to 
the  Gospel  as  true,  produced  in  the  same  way  as  the 
mind  is  made  to  yield  its  assent  to  any  philosophical 
truth.  This  we  call  sj^ecidative  faith.  But,  as  regards 
the  great  work  of  salvation,  it  has  no  more  efiicacy 


284  THE   WITNESS    OF   THE   SPIRIT 

than  a  belief  in  the  facts  of  history,  or  the  propositions 
of  science.  What  we  wish  to  arrive  at,  is,  the  origin 
of  vital^  samTig  faith ;  that  which  controls  the  move- 
ments of  the  heart,  while  it  forces  the  assent  of  the  un- 
derstanding ;  that  which  will  be  imputed  unto  a  man 
for  righteousness,  and  by  which  he  is  enabled  to  stand 
before  the  throne  of  God  as  a  sinner  justified.  Now, 
this  faith  comes  of  evidence  presented  to  the  soul,  and 
this  evidence  is  brought  forward  by  a  witness,  and  this 
witness  is  God's  own  Spirit.  For  the  Ifuth  of  this  doc- 
trinal assertion,  we  have  the  authority  of  Scripture  in 
express  words.  In  the  eighth  chapter  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  and  the  16th  verse,  we  thus  read: 
"  The  Spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God."  Now  this  witnessing 
Spirit  is  none  other  than  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  third 
Person  in  the  ever  blessed  Trinity.  To  bear  witness 
to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  is  one  of  the  characteristic 
offices  of  this  Holy  Being ;  for  he  spake  by  the  projDh- 
ets  ;  he  Avrought  miracles  by  the  hands  of  the  Apostles  ; 
he  inspired  them  to  preach  the  word  of  salvation,  and 
to  embody  it  in  written  documents  ;  and  he  is  ever  pres- 
ent with  that  Church  which  is  the  appointed  Keeper 
of  these  documents,  and  he  protects  and  upholds  this 
Church,  and  gives  perpetuity  to  its  existence,  and  sav- 
ing grace  to  its  ordinances,  and  thus  causes  it  to  be  the 
visible  representative  of  Christ  on  the  earth.  As  a 
witness,  then,  the  Holy  Spirit  executes  a  two-fold 
office ;  first,  in  supplying  all  the  external  evidences  by 
which  the  truth  of  our  holy  faith  is  to  be  sustained 


IN   TIIE   SOUL    OF   MAN.  285 

against  tlie  attacks  of  unbelievers ;  and  secondly,  in 
holding  unseen  and  secret  communication  with  the 
hearts  of  God's  children,  and  keeping  them  steadfast  in 
their  belief  in  the  Son  of  God. 

With  this  latter  office,  however,  we  are  alone  con- 
cerned at  present ;  and  we  must  now  show  in  what  man- 
ner any  one  can  be  assured  that  the  inward  witness 
produced  by  the  action  of  the  Holy  Spirit  uj^on  his 
soul  is  a  true  and  faithfid  witness. 

This  is  an  inquiry  of  deep  practical  importance ; 
for,  as  the  world  may  be  deceived  by  an  outward  dis- 
play of  religious  profession,  to  which  there  is  no  corre- 
spondence of  inward  piety,  so  a  man  may  sometimes  de- 
ceive himself,  by  mistaking  inward  fervors,  a  deep  de- 
pression and  subsequent  ecstasy,  and  a  blind  zeal,  for  a 
true  and  lively  faith.  He,  then,  whose  inward  witness 
may  be  relied  upon  as  trustworthy,  will  find  the  evi- 
dence of  this  in  the  operation  of  rehgion  in  converting 
his  heart  from  sin  to  righteousness,  from  the  power  of 
Satan  unto  God.  This,  my  brethren,  is  a  mighty  and 
wonderful  work,  which  none  but  the  Spirit  of  God  can 
accomplish.  So  wonderful  is  it,  that  to  the  converted 
sinner  himself,  and  often  to  those  who  behold  the  ex- 
ternal influence  of  it  upon  his  life  and  character,  it 
seems  little  less  than  a  miracle.  When  we  see  a  man 
who,  for  a  long  period  of  time,  has  been  exclusively  de- 
voted to  the  world,  whose  thoughts  have  not  only  been 
absorbed  in  its  concerns,  but  who  has  j^luuged  head- 
long into  its  vices  and  follies,  who  has  been  notoriously 
profligate  and  profane ;  when  we  see  such  a  man,  by 


286  THE   WITNESS    OF   THE   SPIEIT 

tlie  influence  of  religion,  entirely  changed,  abandoning 
liis  vices,  becoming  interested  in  tlie  Grospel,  and  its 
appropriate  duties  and  services,  regulating  liis  own 
conduct  and  tliat  of  liis  family  by  tlie  precepts  of  tbe 
Sacred  Volume ;  wlien  we  see,  in  short,  that  all  his 
\'iews,  his  whole  temper  and  conduct  have  been 
changed,  and  that  by  this  change  he  has  become  not 
only  a  more  interesting  and  amiable  companion,  and  a 
more  useful  member  of  society,  but  that  he  is  also  a 
far  happier  man  than  he  was  before,  we  have  reason  to 
acknowledge  that  religion  is  the  great  poprer  of  God. 
But  could  we  enter  within  the  heart  of  this  man  and  see 
the  change  that  has  been  there  produced,  how  infinitely 
increased  would  be  our  surprise,  how  irresistible  the 
demonstration  of  the  truth  and  power  of  rehgion !  The 
outward  evidence,  even,  produces  a  conviction  in  our 
minds :  what,  then,  must  be  the  effect  upon  him  who 
is  conscious  that  all  this  which  the  world  sees  is  a 
reality  ? 

This,  however,  is  an  extreme  case ;  the  work  of  re- 
ligion is  not  always  so  obvious  to  outward  apj^earance, 
nor  does  it  always  have  to  overcome  such  an  amount 
of  actual  transgression.  But  religion  does  always  pro- 
duce a  great  and  effectual  change  in  the  heart.  No 
one  can  judge  of  its  full  extent  except  the  man  who  is 
the  subject  of  it.  He  alone  can  aj^preciate  what  God 
has  done  for  his  soul ;  how  it  has  been  purified,  and 
elevated,  and  strengthened,  to  resist  temptation ;  and 
how  its  communications  with  God  in  secret  prayer  and 
meditation  are  gradually  preparing  it  for  intercourse 


m   THE   SOUL   OP   MAN.  287 

with  the  blessed  inhabitants  of  the  heavenly  kingdom. 
Now  all  this  is  surely  a  witness  to  the  truth  of  religion, 
and  an  irresistible  witness,  too.  You  may  j)resent  to 
the  mind  of  such  a  man,  a  hundred  of  those  difficulties 
which  the  specious  and  profligate  infidel  finds,  or  rather 
thinks  he  finds,  against  the  truth  of  religion,  and  they 
will  weigh  nothing  in  his  estimation.  Although  he  may 
not  have  the  learning  and  ingenuity  to  refute  such  ob- 
jections, as  they  have  been  refuted  a  thousand  times 
over,  }et  he  has  the  witness  in  himself,  and  he  knows 
that  this  witness  bears  testimony  that  all  the  world 
cannot  overthrow,  or  even  weaken. 

Again,  he  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  "  hath 
the  witness  in  himself, "  in  the  constant  j)ower  which 
this  belief  exerts  over  his  life  and  conduct.  Eelisfion 
is  a  practical  principle,  and  not  an  inoperative  theory ; 
and  conversion,  if  it  be  genuine,  is  not  a  change  of 
oj^inion  merely,  accompanied  with  a  few  violent  fits  of 
devotion,  but  is  a  thorough  conformity  of  inward 
thoughts  and  outward  behavior  to  the  law  of  the  Gos- 
pel. If,  therefore,  a  man  feels  that  he  is  under  such 
influences,  that  he  lives  in  the  constant  fear  of  God  and 
the  love  of  Christ,  that  he  never  sins  wilfully  and 
knowingly,  and  that,  if  in  some  sad  moment  of  temp- 
tation he  is  drawn  into  transgression,  deep  repent- 
ance takes  hold  of  him  and  humbles  him,  and  returns 
him  to  his  duties  and  his  allegiance,  and  that  faith  in 
Christ  gives  him  comfort  in  his  sorrow,  and  the  hope 
of  pardon, — ^then  does  he  not  possess  an  inward  evidence 
that  his  belief  on  the  Son  of  God  is  not  a  deception, 


288  THE   WITNESS    OF   THE   SPLRIT 

but  a  powerful  reality  ?  And  while  lie  continues  in 
this  state  of  mind,  no  outward  assaults  whatever  could 
shake  his  confidence.  He  is  far  above  the  reach  of  all 
speculative  objections  to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  for 
he  has  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  within  him  in 
that  through  the  aid  of  the  Spirit  he  is  enabled  to  deny 
all  ungodly  lusts,  and  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and 
godly,  in  this  present  world. 

But  again ;  the  witness  to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel 
in  him  that  believeth,  is  found  in  the  consolation  which 
the  Gospel  affords  him  under  all  the  sorrows  and  ad- 
versities of  life.  These  dark  hours  are  the  seasons  to 
put  to  its  utmost  proof  the  strength  of  our  faith. 
Misfortune,  and  sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  death,  ban- 
ish all  illusions,  and  scatter  to  the  wind  all  false  theo- 
ries, and  show  that  all  human  dependencies  are  broken 
reeds,  on  which  afilicted  mortals  can  place  no  rehance. 
Then  we  discover  that  even  the  words  of  consolation 
which  philosophy  speaks  so  sweetly  and  so  eloquently 
in  our  ears,  are  words  musical  only  to  the  happy  and 
the  prosperous,  they  grate  harshly  upon  the  agonized 
soul.  But  the  Gospel  hath  power  in  itself  to  soothe 
every  sorrow,  to  lighten  the  weight  of  every  adversity, 
to  draw  the  poison  even  from  the  wounds  that  death 
inflicts.  Can  he,  then,  who  experiences  consolation  un- 
der circumstances  where  all  human  resources  fail  him, 
can  he  doubt  concerning  the  reality  of  his  faith? 
When  his  soul  is  peaceful  and  serene,  though  the  sky  is 
l)lack  and  the  tempest  rages  around  him ;  when  he  can 
lift  himself  up  from  amidst  the  ruins  of  temporal  hopes, 


IN   THE   SOUL   OF   5IAN.  289 

or  stand  in  2:)atient  and  resigned  sorrow  by  the  couch, 
where  death  is  doing  his  awful  work  upon  the  dearest 
object  of  the  heart's  affections ;  or  meet  undismayed  the 
king  of  terrors,  as  he  approaches  with  the  dread  sum- 
mons for  his  own  departure  to  the  world  of  spiiits ;  can 
he  then  doubt  ?  has  he  not  within  him  a  witness  that 
no  earthly  power,  and  not  even  death  and  hell  can 
silence  ? 

You  have,  then,  my  brethren,  these  infallible  tests 
by  which  to  try  the  reality  of  your  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God.  Use  them  faithfully  and  constantly,  as  opportu- 
nity presents  itself.  And  daily  and  hourly,  as  we  pass 
through  our  earthly  pilgrimage,  the  occasion  arrives. 


19 


OUR  SHARE  IN  THE  SINS  OE  OTHERS. 


1  Timothy  v.  22. 
—  Neither  be  partaker  of  other  men's  sins. 

Theee  is  sometliing  in  tliis  admonition  calculated 
to  awaken  the  deepest  solicitude  in  tlie  mind  of  every 
tliouglitful  man.  The  responsibility  of  our  own  sins 
is  enough,  and  more  than  enough  for  us  to  bear.  But 
to  become  partners,  as  it  were,  in  the  guilt  of  our 
fellow-men,  and  to  be  made  accountable  for  a  portion 
of  its  criminality,  is  an  appalling  reflection.  Yet  this 
is  the  clear  and  legitimate  inference  to  be  drawn  from 
my  text.  St.  Paul  indeed  is  giving  directions  in  regard 
to  the  exercise  of  an  Ej^iscopal  function.  He  says  to 
Timothy,  "lay  hands  suddenly  on  no  man,"  and  to 
enforce  this  important  direction,  he  intimates  to  him 
that  by  the  careless  admission  of  unworthy  persons 
into  the  sacred  office  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  he 
would  constitute  himself  a  partaker  in  the  sins  which 
would  result  therefrom.     But  the  principle  here  ap- 


J 


OUR   SHARE   IK   THE    SINS    OF   OTHERS.  291 

plied  to  a  special  case  of  iuclividual  responsibility  is 
itself  of  universal  application.  It  arises  out  of  the 
very  nature  of  the  social  relations  that  subsist  between 
men,  and  its  operations  are  co-extensive  with  these  re- 
lations. I  fear,  however,  that  neither  its  importance 
or  extent  are  duly  estimated. 

I  proj)ose,  therefore,  in  this  discourse,  briefly  to 
explain  the  nature  of  this  principle,  to  exhibit  the 
foundations  upon  which  it  is  based,  and  then  to  sug- 
gest some  of  the  more  prominent  methods  by  which 
we  become  partakers  in  other  men's  sins. 

At  first  \^ew,  it  might  seem  to  be  an  unjust  and 
cruel  doctrine,  that  one  man  should  be  made  account- 
able, in  any  degree,  for  another's  guilt,  unless  he  be 
clearly  a  partaker  in  its  commission,  or  at  least  an 
abettor  of  it.  In  such  cases  as  these,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  upon  the  subject.  We  all  know  that  he  who 
aids,  abets,  or  even  encourages  any  transgressor  against 
law  or  morals,  is  partaker  also  in  his  guilt.  But  the 
principle  before  us  extends  much  farther,  and  asserts 
that  a  man  may  be  responsible  for  sins  in  cases  where 
he  knows  nothing  of  the  culprit,  nor  of  the  acts  of 
which  he  has  been  guilty.  One  of  the  older  divines 
indeed,  declares,  with  somewhat  of  quaintness,  but  yet 
with  strict  truth,  that  a  man  may  sin  after  he  is  dead, 
and  to  establish  his  position  proceeds  to  show,  that  if, 
through  the  influence  of  our  evil  instructions,  example, 
or  even  neglect,  a  child  or  dependent  follows  wicked 
ways  after  we  have  left  this  world,  then  a  portion  of 
the  responsibility  must  attach  to  us.     Not  that  the 


292      OUE  SHAEE  I]!^  THE  SLNS  OF  OTHERS. 

criminal  can  liimself  be  in  any  measure  absolved  in 
consequence  of  our  misconduct.  Tlie  propliet  has 
asserted  by  tlie  direction  of  the  Almighty — "  The  soul 
that  sinneth,  it  shall  die.  The  son  shall  not  bear  the 
iniquity  of  the  father,  neither  shall  the  father  bear  the 
iniquity  of  the  son  ;  the  I'ighteousness  of  the  righteous 
shall  be  upon  him,  and  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked 
shall  be  upon  him."  But  while  every  man  must  bear 
the  penalty  of  his  own  transgressions,  because  he  has 
always  the  power  of  free-will  to  I'efuse  the  evil  and  to 
choose  the  good ;  yet  he  who  has  been  in  any  way  in- 
strumental in  producing  this  result,  has  a  sej^arate 
account  of  his  own  to  answer  for  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. Thus,  while  men  can  be  partners  in  each  other's 
sins,  they  cannot  share  each  other's  punishment  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  produce  any  alleviation. 

Now  the  truth  and  justice  of  this  principle  spring 
naturally,  and  of  necessity,  out  of  the  social  relations 
that  subsist  between  men.  We  are  not,  we  cannot  be, 
independent  of  each  other.  As  we  are  Indebted  for 
our  life,  and  for  the  greater  part  of  the  means  of  its 
support,  and  the  elements  of  its  enjoyment,  to  those 
who  have  gone  before  us,  so  also  the  moral  and  reli- 
gious culture  of  our  souls  is  much  in  the  hands  of 
others.  And  what  others  have  done  for  us  we  must 
perpetuate  and  enlarge  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
are  to  succeed  us.  Thus  multitudes,  whom  we  may 
never  see  or  hear  of,  may  o\re  their  temporal  happi- 
ness or  misery,  nay,  their  future  well  or  ill-being,  to 
our  active  benevolence,  or  to  our  criminal  neglect  and 


OUR   SIIAEE   IN   THE   SINS    OF   OTHERS.  293 

indifference.  This  is  indeed  a  mystery,  a  deep  mystery 
in  the  ways  of  Divine  Providence.  That  man  should 
be  thus  placed,  as  it  were,  at  the  mercy  of  his  fellow- 
man  ;  and  that  not  only  his  physical  condition,  but 
even  his  opportunities  for  enjoying  saving  light  and 
knowledge,  should  be  within  the  control  of  others,  and 
those  his  equals  only  in  the  scale  of  being.  Yet  is  not 
this  the  ob^dous  fact  ?  Who  can  deny  that  the  great 
characteristics  of  the  coming  generation  must  take 
their  form  from  the  doings  of  that  which  is  at  present 
on  the  stage  of  action  ?  Who  can  deny  that  the  moral 
condition  of  those  portions  of  the  world  that  now  lie 
in  the  darkness  of  Heathenism,  greatly  depends  upon 
the  exertions  made  in  their  behalf  by  us  who  are 
favored  with  clearer  light  and  higher  privileges  ?  And 
to  narrow  down  our  inquiry,  who  can  deny  that  the 
character  of  our  children,  and  of  those  who  are  around 
us,  is  materially  regulated  by  our  good  or  evil  instruc- 
tion and  example  ?  Therefore  our  interest  in  their 
conduct  is  not  limited  to  time,  it  extends  throuo-hout 
eternity.  As  "they  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the 
brightness  of  the  firmament ;  and  they  that  turn  many 
to  righteousness  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever,"  so, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  who  become  partakers  in 
other  men's  sins,  shall  fall  under  a  just  and  heavy  con- 
demnation. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  the  principle  involved  in  the  admo- 
nition of  my  text,  and  such  the  ground  upon  which  it 
is  sustained.  The  inquiry  that  remains  is  one  of  high 
practical  interest  and  importance  : — what  are  the  more 


294  OUE    SHAEE    !]!«•   THE   SINS    OF   OTHEES. 

promiueut  methods  by  wliicli  we  become  partakers  in 
the  sins  of  our  feEow-men  ?  In  general  terms,  I  reply, 
by  evil  instructions,  by  bad  examples,  and  by  a  neglect 
of  warnings  and  admonitions  in  cases  where  our  rela- 
tive position  throws  upon  us  this  responsibility.  There 
is  no  man,  having  arrived  at  years  of  discretion,  who 
in  some  of  these  ways  does  not  exercise  a  powerful  in- 
fluence over  those  who  are  younger  than  himself,  or 
inferior  in  any  particular  of  natural  capacity  or  station 
in  society.  Nay,  those  who  may  be  considered  as  in 
every  respect  equals,  exert  a  reciprocal  control  over 
each  other's  character  and  conduct.  There  is  no  one 
of  us  that  can  claim  an  exemption  from  this  kind  of 
dependence  on  the  one  hand,  and  this  kind  of  authority 
on  the  other.  And  we  see  this  sort  of  influence  is 
daily  and  abundantly  used  for  selfish  purposes.  But 
how  rarely  do  we  see  those,  who  practically  acknow- 
ledge their  obligation  to  use  them  distinctly  and 
zealously  for  the  moral  and  religious  improvement 
of  their  fellow-creatures,  and  who  feel  accountable  for 
the  effect  upon  others  of  what  they  do  or  say,  or  leave 
undone  or  unsaid  ! 

A  very  extensive  field  would  be  opened  before  us, 
and  one  fruitful  in  topics  of  just  condemnation,  did 
this  place  afford  a  suitable  opportunity,  or  suflicient 
time,  for  observations  upon  the  influence  of  Hterature. 
Reading  is  so  universally  encouraged,  and  books  of  all 
descriptions  are  multiplied  to  such  an  extent,  and  are 
of  such  easy  access,  that  a  very  solemn  responsibility 
arises  from  this  source,  and  is  laid  upon  parents,  in- 


OUR  SHARE  ITS'  THE  SmS  OF  OTHERS.      295 

structors,  and  all  wlio  in  any  way  direct  the  moral  and 
intellectual  culture  of  tlie  young.  Out  of  tlie  multitude 
of  authors  whose  works  are  around  us,  I  do  not  know 
that  there  is  any  considerable  number  who  have  writ- 
ten with  the  express  and  diabolical  design  of  corrupt- 
ing the  principles  of  their  age.  This  is  an  excess  of 
depravity  of  rare  occurrence.  But  are  there  not  very 
many  who  have  written,  and  who  still  write,  without 
any  reference  to  human  improvement,  either  intel- 
lectual or  moral  ?  A  large  proportion  of  the  works 
of  fiction,  with  which  the  modern  press  has  been  so 
prolific,  must  fall  under  this  condemnation.  And  of 
many  that  profess  better  designs,  is  not  their  ten- 
dency injurious,  through  neglect  or  error  in  the  state- 
ment and  illustration  of  moral  and  religious  j)rinciples  ? 
It  does  not  fall  within  the  pro^duce  of  the  pulpit  upon 
an  ordinary  occasion  of  public  instruction,  to  exhibit 
to  those  who  are  endowed  with  higher  powers  of 
intellect  or  imagination,  their  awful  resj)onsibility  for 
the  use  they  make  of  the  rare  talents  intrusted  to 
them,  and  to  show  how  just  and  certain  must  be  their 
condemnation  if  they  distil  poison  into  the  fountains 
of  public  instruction,  or  di^op  the  seeds  of  noxious  and 
deadly  plants  in  the  gardens  of  innocent  amusement 
that  surround  them.  But  I  may,  and  must,  speak  to 
those  who  have  any  control  over  the  reading  of  the 
young.  We  are  none  of  us  as  sensitive  ujDon  this  sub- 
ject as  we  should  be.  If  we  do  not  undervalue  the 
impressions  thus  made  upon  the  growing  mind  and 
heart,  yet  I  am  convinced  that  we  too  lightly  estimate 


296      OUE  SHAEE  LN"  THE  SmS  OF  OTHEES. 

our  own  individual  responsibility.  If  tlirougb.  our  con- 
nivance, or  by  our  neglect,  books  of  a  corrupting  ten- 
dency get  into  the  hands  of  our  children  or  dependents, 
and  their  hearts  in  consequence  become  corrupted,  can 
we  be  accounted  innocent  ?  are  we  not  instrumental  in 
fostering  and  encouraging  their  moral  delinquency,  and 
are  we  not  thus  made  partakers  of  their  sins  ?  And 
if  for  such  offences  men  are  accountable,  how  much 
more  guilty  are  those  who  from  their  own  mouths 
teach  or  defend  wrong  principles  or  corrupt  practices  ! 
As  there  are  but  few  who  write  expressly  to  do  evil,  so 
there  are  not  many  whom  we  encounter  so  depraved 
as  to  be  the  avowed  apostles  of  sin.  Yet  I  fear  there 
are  many  whose  daily  conversation  is  calculated  to 
countenance  and  encourage  sin,  who  treat  it  with  ill- 
timed  levity,  or  invent  for  it  false  but  ingenious  palli- 
ations. Now,  if  abhorrence  of  sin  is  thus  gradually 
diminished  in  a  youthful  conscience,  and  at  last  the 
power  of  resistance  is  gone,  are  not  they  partakers  in 
the  vice,  who  have  thus  helped  to  remove  the  barriers 
that  kept  it  out  ?  Most  assuredly,  he  who  in  the 
presence  of  youth  or  inexperience  has  excused  acts  of 
falsehood,  dishonesty,  impurity,  or  any  other  crime,  or 
has  made  them  the  subject  of  ridicule  as  matters  of 
slight  importance,  has  associated  himself  with  guilt 
that  future  years  may  develop,  but  which  then  was 
suggested  or  encouraged.  How  many  a  criminal  has 
traced  the  origin  of  his  offences  to  impressions  thus 
received,  and  though  his  guilt  cannot  thereby  be  re- 
moved, yet  he  who  by  anticipation  has  partaken  of  it 
shall  not  escape. 


OUR   SHARE   EST   THE   SINS    OF    OTHERS.  297 

If  by  evil  instructions  men  become  partakers  m  tlie 
sins  of  otliers,  liow  mucli  more  by  bad  examples  ? 
Thus  sin  is  not  only  taught,  but  taught  in  the  most 
emphatic  manner.  We  all  know  what  a  powerful  in- 
fluence is  exerted  by  example.  This  is  a  practical  and 
familiar  truth  which  needs  no  enforcement.  But  the 
point  now  to  be  pressed  upon  your  notice  is,  that  you 
will  be  held  responsihle  for  the  influence  your  conduct 
exerts  upon  others,  and  that  if  they  transgress  m  con- 
sequence of  seeing  your  evil  example,  and  being  en- 
couraged by  it,  you  will  be  condemned  not  only  for 
your  own  sin,  but  also  for  theirs.  You  will  not  demur 
to  the  rule  which  sentences  you  to  sufi"er  for  your  own 
delinquencies,  but  you  will,  perhaps,  object  when  made 
obnoxious  to  the  penalty  for  another's  crimes.  You 
will  say,  what  have  I  to  do  with  the  intemperance  of 
this  man,  the  dishonesty  of  that,  or  the  profanity  of 
another  ?  If  he  has  seen  your  luxuriousness  or  your 
habitual  incaution  in  the  use  of  stimulating  drinks ; 
if  he  has  known  of  your  successful  artifices  and  eva- 
sions of  the  princij)le  of  strict  integrity  in  transactions 
between  man  and  man  ;  or  if  he  has  heard  your  daily 
conversation  filled  with  oaths  and  words  of  solemn 
asseveration  uttered  in  jest  or  passion,  and  has  fallen 
under  the  influence  of  your  example ;  you  have  much, 
very  much,  to  do  with  his  transgressions  in  these  re- 
spects ;  you  have,  perhaps,  been  the  j)rincipal  cause 
of  them,  at  least  you  have  deeply  shared  in  them ; 
and  shall  you  go  unpunished  ?  No,  you  must  answer 
for  your  sins  in  their  original  commission,  and  you 
must  be  responsible  also  for  their  reflected  influences. 


298  OUR   SHAEE   IN   THE   SINS    OF    OTHERS. 

But  in  addition  to  tliese  positive  metliods  of  be- 
coming tlie  partaker  of  other  men's  sins,  there  is  a 
negative  manner  of  subjecting  ourselves  to  the  same 
condemnation.     This  is  illustrated  in  the  character  and 
conduct  of  Eli.     A  good  and  reverend  man  himself, 
and   observant   of  his  duties   to   his   Maker,  he  yet 
grossly  neglected  the  discharge  of  his  parental  obli- 
gations.    "  His  sons  made  themselves  vile,  and  he  re- 
strained them  not."      He   opposed  no  authority,  he 
uttered  no  efficient  rebukes,  but  said  only  in  weak  and 
timid  expostulation,  my  sons,  why  do  ye  so  ?     The 
just  consequence  was  that  he  also  fell  under  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  Almighty,  and  was  involved  in  the 
effects  of  their  punishment.     He  had  uttered  no  evil 
counsels  in  his  teaching  ;  he  had  exhibited  no  corrupt- 
ing example  in  his  conduct ;  but  he  had  neglected 
solemn  warning,  rebuke,  admonition,  restraint.     Had 
he  exerted  the  influence  of  age,  of  station  and  parental 
authority,  with  which  the  providence  of  God  had  in- 
vested him,  and  had  his  sons  resisted  all  this,  then  they 
alone  must  have  borne  their  guilt ;  and  he  might  have 
sorrowed  and  gone  to  his  grave  heart-broken,  but  he 
would  have  escaped  the  displeasure  of  the  Almighty. 
Now  the  same  kind  of  responsibility  which  he  neg- 
lected, and  thus  rendered  nugatory,  is  laid  upon  every 
parent,  guardian,  instructor.,  and   upon   all  who   are 
l)rought  into  such  relations  with  any  fellow-being  as 
to  authorize  the  language  of  warning  or  expostulation. 
If  through  indolence,  timidity,  or  indifference,  it  is 
kept  back,  and  sin  is  thereby  encouraged,  we  become 
partakers  in  that  sin. 


OUR   SHAEE   TN   THE   SESTS    OF   OTHERS.  299 

The  illustrations  of  wliich  tlie  subject  before  us  is 
susceptible,  are  by  no  means  exhausted ;  indeed,  tliey 
might  be  extended  to  every  particular  in  which  the 
conduct  of  one  accountable  being  can  exert  any  influ- 
ence uj^on  that  of  another.  Enough,  however,  I  trust, 
has  been  said,  to  show  forth  the  nature  of  the  principle 
involved  iii  my  text,  and  to  satisfy  you  of  its  deej) 
practical  importance.  I  beseech  you,  then,  look  well 
and  anxiously  at  this  responsibility  which  is  laid  upon 
you,  and  which  you  can  by  no  means  throw  off.  I 
fear  that  many  of  us  have  never  weighed  it  sufficiently. 
It  is  difficult  to  make  us  look  at  sin  and  its  conse- 
quences as  terminating  in  ourselves.  We  evade  such 
reflections,  and  seldom,  alas,  are  brought  to  serious 
consideration.  Much  more  difficult  is  it  to  make  men 
look  at  sin  as  reflected  from  themselves  in  the  con- 
duct of  others.  They  naturally  wish  that  each  man 
should  bear  his  own  iniquity,  and  feel  it  to  be  unjust 
to  accuse  them  as  partakers  in  crimes  which  they  never 
actually  committed,  or  even  approved.  But,  if  not  the 
same,  have  you  not  committed  similar  or  kindred  ones  ? 
if  not  apjoroved,  have  you  to  the  extent  of  your  abili- 
ties and  opportunities,  tried  to  discountenance  and  pre- 
vent them?  In  this  light  should  we  regard  ourselves. 
We  are  not  solitary  beings ;  we  each  one  of  us  must 
inevitably  exert  some  influence  for  good  or  for  ill  upon 
those  who  are  around  us.  We  know  not  the  extent  to 
which  one  sinful  action  of  ours  may  reach.  It  may 
put  forth  its  corrupting  power  over  multitudes  of  im- 
mortal souls  of  whose  existence  we  shall  never  know 


300  OUR   SHARE   m   THE   SmS    OF   OTHERS. 

till  tlie  day  of  judgment.  The  plague  spot  is  first  de- 
veloped in  one  mortal  body,  but  its  contaminating  ef- 
fects quickly  reacli  another  and  another,  till  whole  re- 
gions are  laid  desolate.  The  moral  pestilence  of  sin 
is  spread  not  less  surely,  not  less  rapidly,  not  less  ex- 
tensively. And  it  is  spread  by  communication  from 
man  to  man.  Oh,  shall  we  be  indifferent  to  its  pro- 
gress, or,  worse  still,  with  fiend-like  cruelty  speed  it 
on  its  way  ?  Shall  we  not  rather  seek  to  arrest  it, 
and,  as  it  were,  each  one  stop  it  at  himself?  We  are 
sinners  all,  but  let  not  the  deep  damnation  of  partaking 
in  the  sins  of  others  be  also  laid  upon  our  guilty  heads. 
If  sometimes  victims,  let  it  be  seen  that  we  hate,  that 
we  resist  the  tyrant  that  has  overcome  us.  Let  us  not 
gild  and  hug  our  chains,  or  carry  them  as  if  they  did 
not  oppress  us,  and  thus  lure  the  young  and  unwary 
to  put  them  on ;  let  us  hold  them  to  their  eyes,  and 
clank  them  in  their  ears,  and  show  by  the  agony  of 
repentance  that  the  iron  hath  entered  into  our  souls. 
Thus  may  they  be  terrified,  and  so  escape. 

Ah,  thou  parent !  to  thee  our  subject  speaks  with 
an  awful  emphasis.  Thou  hast  caused  immortal  souls 
to  wake  into  being.  Thy  God  hath  awarded  thee  the 
exalted  privilege,  the  unspeakable  joy  of  instrumental- 
ity in  peopling  heaven  with  angelic  spirits,  but  he  hath 
also  exposed  thee  to  the  fearful  responsibility  of  caus- 
ing some  child  of  sin  to  cry  out  hereafter  in  the  ago- 
nies of  distress,  cursed  be  the  day  in  which  I  was 
born !  Shall  this  child  of  hopeless  despair  be  thine  ? 
If  lost  to  God,  and  virtue,  and  future  hapj^iness,  shall 


OUR   SHARE   IN   THE   SINS    OF   OTHERS.  301 

it  be  tlirougli  tliy  participation  in  its  crimes  during 
this  period  of  probation?  Tlioii  may  est  escape  this 
unutterable  wo.  Its  look  of  agony  and  terrible  re- 
proach may  not  be  turned  upon  thee,  as  the  sentence 
of  final  condemnation  sounds  in  its  guilty  ears.  But 
then  thy  solemn  duty  must  be  faithfully  discharged. 
Thou  must  with  its  opening  faculties  combine  sound 
moral  and  religious  principles ;  thou  must  with  its 
growing  sense  of  accountability,  teach  it  to  regulate 
this  sacred  sentiment  with  reference  to  the  holy  and 
eternal  judgment  seat  of  God  ;  thou  must,  as  its  imita- 
tive powers  are  early  developed,  set  before  it  the  ex- 
ample of  a  pure  and  sinless  life ;  thou  must,  as  it  enters 
into  the  ine'sdtable  associations  of  society,  guard  it  with 
a  watchful  and  anxious  care  from  corrupt  influences ; 
thou  must,  while  thy  guardianship  remains  in  force, 
and  that  can  end  only  with  thy  life,  follow  it  with 
jealous  and  pertinacious  solicitude,  and  still  expostu- 
late and  warn,  when  the  child  has  become  the  man,  and 
thy  power  of  restraint  is  gone  ;  thou  must  shed  upon 
its  pathway  through  the  world,  the  sacred  influence  of 
prayers  and  entreaties  at  the  Throne  of  Grace  for  its 
spiritual  preservation  ;  thus,  and  thus  only,  canst  thou 
escape  the  dreadful  condemnation  of  being  a  partaker 
of  the  sins  of  the  child  of  thy  love. 


HEINOUSNESS  OP  SINS  OF  OMISSION. 


Matthew  xxv.  1-4. 

Then  shall  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be  likened  unto  ten  virgins,  which 
took  their  lamps,  and  went  forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom.  And  five  of 
them  were  wise,  and  five  were  foolish.  They  that  were  foolish  took  their 
lamps,  and  took  no  oil  with  them.  But  the  wise  took  oil  in  their  vessels 
with  their  lamps. 

SijS^s  are  frequently  classed  under  two  general  heads 
— those  of  omission  and  those  of  commission.  If  the 
former  are  regarded  as  being  of  a  less  aggravated  char- 
acter than  the  latter,  yet  they  do  not  less  certainly  in- 
cur the  displeasure  of  the  Almighty,  nor  are  they  less 
emphatically  denounced  in  the  Sacred  Volume.  They 
do  not,  indeed,  excite  the  same  amount  of  disapproba- 
tion amongst  men ;  nor  are  we  ourselves  as  apt  to  be 
conscience-stricken  when  we  have  omitted  a  duty,  as 
when  we  have  been  guilty  of  a  positive  transgression. 
But  we  must  not,  therefore,  delude  ourselves  with  the 
thought  that  we  can  escape  with  impunity  before  a 
higher  tribunal, — a  tribunal  before  which  all  the  secrets 


HEESrOUSNESS    OF   SINS    OF   OMISSION.  303 

of  the  lieart  will  be  exposed,  and  every  delinquency 
of  every  description  will  be  brought  in  judgment 
against  us.  No,  my  brethren,  God  requires  of  us  that 
we  should  not  merely  abstain  from  vice,  but  that  we 
should  practice  virtue ;  that  ive  should  not  simply  for- 
bear to  do  evil,  but  to  the  extent  of  our  abilities  and 
opportunities  that  we  should  do  good ;  and  because, 
through  the  sinfulness  and  infirmity  of  our  nature,  we 
are  far,  alas !  very  far,  from  fulfilling  these  requisi- 
tions, we  are  called  upon  in  humility  and  deep  peni- 
tence to  say,  not  only,  we  have  done  those  things 
which  we  ought  not  to  have  done,  but  also,  we  have 
left  undone  those  things  which  we  ought  to  have  done. 

To  that  fault  of  our  corrupt  nature  which  betrays 
us  into  sins  of  omission,  it  is  my  design  to  direct  your 
attention  on  the  present  occasion.  The  subject  is  sug- 
gested by  the  words  of  our  text,  and  is  illustrated  and 
solemnly  enforced  by  the  whole  chapter  from  which  it 
is  taken. 

This  chapter  of  St.  Matthew  has  been  read  to  you 
as  part  of  the  morning  service,*  and  my  first  object 
will  be  to  represent  to  you  in  what  manner  it  warns 
you  of  the  guilt  of  sins  of  omission,  and  their  awful  con- 
demnation by  our  blessed  Saviour.  In  this  portion  of 
the  Sacred  Volume  we  have  two  parables  recorded, 
those  of  the  ten  virgins  and  of  the  talents,  and  also  a 
sublime  description  of  what  will  take  place  on  the 
awful  day  of  final  judgment.     Although  these  subjects 

*  It  is  the  second  Morning  Lesson  for  the  Fourteenth  Sunday  after 
Trinity. 


304  HEINOUSNESS   OF   SINS    OF   OMISSION. 

are  diverse,  yet  as  regards  the  point  in  question  before  us, 
we  shall  discover  in  them  a  remarkable  unity  of  design. 
In  each  of  the  parables,  and  in  his  representation  of  the 
judgment  day,  our  Lord  expressly  has  reference  to 
sins  of  omission,  and  utters  against  them  a  clear  and 
unequivocal  sentence  of  condemnation. 

"The  kingdom  of  heaven,"  says  our  Lord,  "is 
likened  unto  ten  virgins,  which  took  their  lamps,  and 
went  forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom." 

A  marriage  is  usually  esteemed  one  of  the  highest 
festive  occasions,  and  amongst  the  Jews  it  was  cele- 
brated with  many  rites  which  are  not  practised 
amongst  ourselves.  To  one  of  these  our  text  refers. 
The  attendants  mentioned  in  the  text  were  to  go  forth 
with  lights  and  wait  the  coming  of  the  bridegroom, 
and  welcome  him  to  the  place  where  the  feast  was  pre- 
pared. They  carried  small  earthen  lamps,  such  as  are 
now  frequently  dug  from  ancient  cemeteries  in  the 
East,  and  to  rej^lenish  them,  when  the  oil  failed,  as  it 
would  in  a  short  period  of  time,  they  had  with  them  a 
larger  vessel  containing  oil.  Those  who  were  possessed 
of  prudent  forethought,  would  of  course  see  that  their 
oil  vessels  were  abundantly  suppHed.  Others,  on  the 
contrary,  who  were  thoughtless  and  improvident,  would 
probably  in  the  haste  of  departure  seize  upon  their 
lamps,  and  never  examine  the  condition  of  their  oil 
vessels.  The  consequence  would  be,  that  their  object 
would  be  only  half  accomplished.  The  foolish  virgins 
as  well  as  the  wise  designed  to  pay  respect  to  the 
bridegroom;  they  did  not  withhold  theii'  attention, 


HEmOUSNESS    OF   SINS    OF   OMISSION.  305 

they  did  not  forget  tlieir  lamps,  by  wLicli  to  liglit  liim 
on  his  way ;  but  yet,  by  one  careless  omission,  all  tlieir 
good  intentions  were  rendered  nugatory.  While  they 
had  gone  to  correct  their  error,  the  festive  party  had 
arrived,  had  entered  the  house,  the  door  was  closed, 
and  the  unhappy  delinquents  were  left  in  outer  dark- 
ness, bewailing  their  culpable  neglect.  Tlie  other  parts 
of  the  parable  would  furnish  occasion  for  interesting 
and  profitable  remarks.  But  at  present  we  restrict 
our  ol^servations  to  this  single  point ;  for  our  blessed 
Saviour  undoubtedly  intended  to  cast  a  severe  censure 
upon  the  guilt  of  omitted  duty,  and  to  show  its  dread- 
ful consequences. 

The  same  design  is  accomplished,  and  perhaj^s  in  a 
more  clear  and  forcible  manner,  in  the  parable  of  the 
talents.  "  The  kins^dom  of  heaven  is  as  a  man  travel- 
ling  into  a  far  country,  who  called  his  own  servants 
and  delivered  unto  them  his  goods.  And  unto  one 
he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  two,  and  to  another 
one ;  to  every  man  according  to  his  several  ability ; 
and  straightway  took  his  journey."  Two  of  these  ser- 
vants, we  know,  performed  their  respective  duties  faith- 
fully and  diligently,  and  were  rewarded  with  the  full 
approbation  of  their  lord  and  master.  But  he  that 
had  received  one  talent,  went  and  digged  in  the  earth 
and  hid  his  lord's  money ;  not,  however,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  defi-auding  his  master,  for  he  returned  it  on  the 
day  of  account  undiminished.  What,  then,  was  the 
nature  and  the  amount  of  his  criminality  ?  Doubtless, 
it  was  perverse  ingratitude  for  the  trust  confided  to 
20 


306  HEINOUSNESS    OF   SINS    OF   05IISSI0N. 

liim,  a  slotliful  neglect  of  tlie  faculties  and  opportuni- 
ties with  whicli  he  had  been  furnished,  and  contempt 
for  the  authority  which  appointed  him  a  certain  duty 
to  perform.  And  his  punishment  was  signal.  Cast 
ye  the  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness :  there 
shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  Do  we  not 
again  see  that  sins  of  omission  are  clearly  pointed  at 
and  severely  condemned  ?  But  again,  and  with  still 
greater  certainty  and  solemnity,  may  we  draw  this 
inference  from  our  Lord's  description  of  the  day  of 
judgment. 

This  portion  of  Scripture  is  one  of  the  most  sublime 
and  momentous  of  any  contained  in  the  whole  compass 
of  the  Sacred  Volume.  Our  Lord  himself  then  sj^eaks 
of  that  great  event  which  even  reason  assures  us  must 
take  place  under  the  dispensation  of  a  righteous  and 
all-wise  Superintendent  of  the  universe,  when  we  shall 
all  be  summoned  to  judgment  for  the  deeds  done  in 
the  body.  When  the  last  trumpet  shall  sound,  the 
Son  of  man  will  come  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  with 
power  and  great  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with 
him.  Then  shall  he  sit  uj)on  the  throne  of  his  glory, 
and  before  him  shall  l^e  gathered  all  nations,  and  he 
shall  separate  them  one  from  another.  And  what 
appears  to  be  the  leading  prmciple,  according  to  which 
this  awful  transaction  will  take  place  ?  It  is  reason- 
able that  we  should  feel  the  utmost  anxiety  to  know 
what  we  must  do  to  secure  the  favor  of  our  Judo^e,  and 
avoid  the  consequences  of  his  terrific  displeasure.  And 
we  are  not  left  in  any  darkness  or  doubt  upon  this 


J 


HEINOUSTiTESS    OF   SINS    OF   OMISSION.  307 

point.  The  reason  of  tlie  acceptance  of  tlie  rigliteous 
is  stated  in  plain  terms :  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my 
Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  yon  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world.  For  I  was  hungered, 
and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me 
drink ;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in ;  naked, 
and  ye  clothed  me.  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  ;  I 
was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me." 

Here  we  see  that  positive  and  commanded  duties, 
those  of  active  benevolence,  were  performed  by  the 
righteous.  But  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  general 
judgment  will  turn  upon  this  inquiry  alone,  and  that 
if  a  man  has  been  assiduous  in  works  of  kindness  and 
mercy  to  his  brethren,  that  he  need  feel  no  other  anx- 
iety. No,  we  are  abundantly  assured  that  other  inves- 
tigations will  be  made ;  his  piety  towards  God,  his 
faith,  his  purity,  and  his  justice  must  be  examined,  and, 
after  all,  he  can  be  accepted  only  through  trust  in  the 
merits  of  a  Saviour's  righteousness.  But  this  Saviour 
here  declares  the  conditions  upon  which  his  favor  will 
be  bestowed  ujion  us,  and  if  we  are  not  given  to  works 
of  charity  to  our  poorer  brethren,  we  cannot  be  ac- 
counted as  his  disciples,  nor  shall  we  be  clothed  in  the 
mantle  of  his  righteousness. 

On  the  other  hand,  let  us  look  at  what  will  be  the 
ground  of  condemnation.  "  Depart  fi-om  me,  ye  cursed, 
into  everlasting  iii-e  prepared  for  the  de\il  and  his 
angels  ;  for  I  was  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat ; 
I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  no  driiik ;  I  was 
a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not  in ;  naked,  and  ye 


308  HEINOUSNESS    OF   SINS    OF    OMISSION. 

clothed  me  not ;  sick  and  in  prison,  and  ye  visited 
me  not." 

Here  let  us  observe,  that  our  Lord's  dissatisfaction 
and  awful  displeasure  is  expressed  in  consequence  of 
omitted  duties.  These  miserable  delinquents  had  left 
undone  what  they  ought  to  have  done.  It  is  not  said, 
ye  have  defrauded  the  poor,  ye  have  committed  murder, 
or  been  guilty  of  cruel  injustice.  They  were  not  ac- 
cused of  any  positive  transgression.  But  they  had 
neglected  to  do  what,  according  to  the  great  principles 
of  humanity,  and  the  express  obligation  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Christ,  was  their  duty.  Thus,  as  we  see,  in  this 
remarkable  passage  of  Scripture,  the  transaction  in 
which  we  have  a  deeper  interest  than  in  any  other 
which  can  ever  take  place,  will  bring  into  prominent 
notice  the  question  whether  we  have  been  diligent  in 
performing  positive  duty,  or  delinquent  in  omitting 
what  our  consciences  told  us  was  incumbent  upon  us. 
And  we  are  not  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  simple 
duty  of  benevolence.  This  indeed  is  a  prominent  one, 
coming  under  the  second  table  of  the  law,  "  thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself ; "  and  it  is  an  essential,  for 
"  he  who  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how 
can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ? "  But  still 
the  princij)le  is  to  be  extended  over  the  whole  sphere 
of  human  responsibility  ;  we  must  not  merely  abstain 
from  known  errors,  we  must  aim  at  doing  that  which 
is  good. 

I  have  thus,  my  brethren,  shown  you  what  is  taught 
in  relation  to  the  subject  before  us  in  one  chapter  of 


HEmOUSNESS   OF   SINS    OF    OMISSIO]^-.  309 

tlie  Sacred  Volume.  But  without  this,  which  is  so  full 
and  ex]:)licit,  and  which  to  my  mind  seems  more  di- 
rected against  the  sin  of  omitted  duty  than  any  other, 
even  without  this,  our  position  could  he  sustained  in 
the  strongest  manner  by  the  general  tenor  of  Reve- 
lation, and  by  those  fundamental  truths  which  find 
their  warrant  and  confirmation  in  every  man's  con- 
science. To  this  I  appeal  as  regards  every  one  of  you 
here  present.  Do  you  think  you  would  discharge 
your  moral  and  religious  obligations  by  abstaining  from 
known  transgressions  ?  I  do  not  suppose  this  to  be  pos- 
sible with  any  one,  for  "  there  is  no  man  that  sinneth 
not."  But  granting  it  were  possible,  would  you  imagine 
that  you  had  thereby  fulfilled  the  law,  and  that  you 
were  relieved  from  all  farther  responsibility  ?  Would 
you  rest  contented  with  the  consciousness  of  having 
committed  no  heinous  offence  ?  Would  you  not  desire 
some  farther  evidence  in  your  favor,  some  clearer  mark 
to  designate  your  character  ?  When  we  come  to  ex- 
amine ourselves  in  this  way,  we  shall  feel  convinced 
of  our  delinquency.  And  yet,  my  brethren,  what  mul- 
titudes are  there  in  the  world  who  are  in  the  constant 
practice  of  self-deception  upon  this  subject  ?  who  lay 
their  consciences  asleep  with  suggesting  to  themselves 
that  they  have  done  no  great  amount  of  evil ;  that 
there  are  very  many  in  the  world  far  worse  than  they, 
that  they  have  never  wronged  any  man,  and  therefore 
that  they  cannot  be  esteemed  very  grievous  trans- 
gressors ?  We  should  not  perhaps  be  surprised  at  this 
state  of  ignorance,  in  which  thousands  are  living  in 


310  HErN"ous]srEss  or  sins  of  omission. 

regard  to  their  characters.  It  is  certainly  mucli  easier 
to  detect  and  to  feel  sins  of  commission  than  those  of 
an  opposite  description.  If  I  murder,  steal,  commit 
adultery,  bear  false  witness,  or  violate  any  other  positive 
commandment,  I  know  what  I  am  doing,  my  guilt  is 
forcibly  brought  to  my  attention,  and  my  sin  assumes 
that  outward  and  marked  character  which  prevents 
my  putting  it  from  the  knowledge  of  my  conscience.  I 
become  an  active  agent  in  iniquity,  and  as  such  I  must 
expect  to  suffer  punishment  here,  if  detected,  and  must 
experience  a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment 
hereafter.  But  when  I  only  omit  certain  duties  which 
I  ought  to  perform, — when,  as  it  has  been  said,  I  am 
only  "  negatively  criminal,  when  I  merely  omit  to  per- 
form my  private  or  public  devotions,  or  perform  them 
with  careless  inattention  ;  when  I  go  on  from  day  to 
day  neglecting  to  improve  my  understanding,  or  to 
render  my  heart  more  enlarged ;  when  I  take  no  ad- 
vantage of  the  oj^portuuities  which  are  ]3resented  to 
me  of  being  useful  to  my  fellow-creatures ;  when  I 
make  no  progress  in  the  attainment  of  holiness,  and  in 
weaning  my  affections  from  the  things  of  this  world, 
these  offences  j^roducing  no  immediate  inconvenience 
to  myself  or  injury  to  my  neighbor,  they  make  no  last- 
ing impression,  and  are  repeated  not  merely  without 
regret,  but  are  at  last  even  unnoticed." 

A  very  little  consideration  must  satisfy  every  rea- 
sonable mind,  that  such  limited  views  of  moral  and 
religious  obligation  are  derogatory  to  human  nature, 
and  at  variance  with  the  requisitions  of  the  Divine 


HEESrOUSNESS    OF   SINS    OF   OMISSION.  311 

law.  We  are  by  nature  active  beings  ;  we  have  powers 
of  body  and  energies  of  mind  bestowed  upon  us  for 
this  2:)urpose  ;  we  are  made  for  constant  advancement ; 
a  state  of  progression  is  the  only  state  of  true  dignity, 
and  the  only  one  which  confers  happiness.  When  we 
satisfy  ourselves  with  not  using  our  230wers  to  do  evil, 
and  never  put  them  forth  for  good,  our  life  becomes  a 
life  of  poor  and  sluggish  and  contemptible  vegetation. 
We  may  know  practically,  if  we  will  but  take  the 
pains  to  examine,  that  those  intellectual  powers  which 
are  not  in  constant  exercise  for  positive  attainments, 
become  dull  and  inefficient.  Those  habits  of  business 
even,  which,  are  essential  to  successful  enterprise,  if  not 
kept  in  full  employment,  will  be  constantly  losing 
their  power.  The  same  principle  is  apj^licable  to  our 
nature  as  moral  and  rehgious  beings :  if  we  are  not 
doing  good,  we  are  suffering,  if  not  committing  evil,  for 
our  characters  are  incessantly  degenerating.  If  we  do 
not  labor  to  discharge  our  various  duties,  and  to  make 
progress  in  godliness,  we  shall  be  going  backward  in 
our  career,  and  incurring  an  increasing  amount  of  cul- 
pability. In  religion  there  is  no  such  thing  as  being 
stationary,  or  neutral,  or  indifferent  to  good  or  evil. 
We  must  go  forward  or  backward ;  we  must  be  on  the 
side  of  Jehovah  or  Satan ;  we  must  take  our  lot  and 
inheritance  with  the  good  or  the  evil.  So  imj^ortant 
is  it  that  we  should  realize  this  truth,  in  its  full  extent, 
that  merely  abstaining  from  crime  will  not  satisfy  the 
Divine  requisitions,  that  our  blessed  Lord  has  given 
fuU  and  emphatic  declarations  concerning  it.     "  His 


312  HEEsrousNESS  OF  SINS  or  o^nssioN. 

denunciations  are  more  frequently  j)ointed  at  tlie  lamp 
whicli  liad  no  oil,  the  tree  wliicli  bore  no  fruit,  and  tlie 
talent  which  was  not  improved ;  than  at  bad  oil,  cor- 
rupt fruits,  and  talents  ill  employed."  And  in  the 
parable  of  the  talents  the  approbation  expressed  was, 
"  Well  done^  good  and  faithful  servant."  Something 
was  done.  Not  having  wasted  the  talent  was  no 
ground  of  approbation  ;  on  the  contrary,  this  negative 
state  incurred  severe  censure  and  condign  punishment. 
The  talent  must  be  imj^roved,  and  improved  according 
to  ability  and  opportunity.  At  least  simj)le  interest 
was  to  be  required  for  it.  "  Thou  oughtest  to  have 
put  my  money  to  the  exchangers,  and  tlien  I  should 
have  received  mine  own  with  usury."  There  was  no 
unreasonable  requisition  ;  he  that  had  five  talents  com- 
mitted to  him  was  not  expected  to  gain  ten,  nor  he 
that  had  two  to  gain  five.  A  just  proportion  will  be 
established  between  the  faculties  bestowed  and  the 
amount  of  good  they  are  made  to  j)roduce.  But  we 
all  must  produce  something  ^  we  all  must  exhibit  a 
solicitous  desire  to  do  the  will  of  our  Father  in  heaven. 
Now  his  will,  as  laid  down  in  the  Sacred  Volume,  as 
written  in  legible  characters  in  the  heart  of  every  rea- 
soning being,  is  that  we  must,  first^  "cease  to  do 
eviP' — tlien^  "learn  to  do  well."  The  former  com- 
prises but  half  the  commandment. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  let  us  all  examine  ourselves 
by  the  principle  which  has  been  illustrated,  and  which 
we  have  seen  to  be  established  by  our  Divine  Master 
in  all  his  teaching.     Sins  of  omission  are  equally  con- 


nEiNorsis-Ess  of  sins  of  omissioist.  313 

demned  witli  sins  of  commission  iu  tlie  Gospel,  and 
will  be  assuredly  punished  in  tlie  last  dreadful  day  of 
the  Lord.  Wliicli  of  us  then  can  stand  the  test  of  tliis 
examination  ?  Who  is  there  of  the  children  of  Adam 
that  has  not  neglected  opportunities  of  benevolence,  that 
has  not  failed  to  cultivate  his  intellectual,  moral,  and 
religious  faculties  on  numberless  occasions,  that  has  not 
abstained  from  doing  good  wlien  it  was  in  the  power 
of  his  hand  to  do  it  ?  Alas  for  our  feeble  and  inter- 
mitted eftbrts  to  fulfil  the  commandments  of  our  Maker ! 
We  need  not  inquire  about  positive  sins,  we  must  not 
flatter  ourselves  with  impunity  because  no  great  crime 
can  be  alleged  against  us.  Spiritual  indolence  is  a 
crime  ;  to  know  of  an  opportunity  to  advance  the  tem- 
poral comfort  or  the  eternal  salvation  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture, and  not  to  do  it,  is  a  crime  ;  to  see  any  method 
of  imj^ro^dng  the  faculties  with  which  our  Creator  hatli 
mercifully  endowed  us,  and  to  neglect  it,  is  a  crime. 
We  must  be  up  and  doing,  w^orkiug  the  work  of  Him 
that  sent  us,  while  it  is  day.  We  must  not  be  slothful 
in  business ;  but  fervent  in  s]3irit,  serving  the  Lord. 
Religion  is  an  active,  energetic  23i'iiicij)le ;  it  has  a 
vivifying  power.  If  by  the  influence  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit  it  hatli  taken  possession  of  the  heart  of  any  man, 
it  will  rouse  him  to  dilio:ence  in  his  Christian  vocation  ; 
it  will  give  ardor  to  bis  devotions,  perseverance  to  his 
eftbrts  at  moral  improvement,  and  activity  to  his  benev- 
olence. He  will  never  be  wearied  in  well  doing.  Life  is 
a  toilsome  journey,  a  dangerous  warfare.  "  Why  stand 
ye  here,  then,  all  the  day  idle  ? "    Rouse  you,  and  enter 


314  HEiisrousisrESs  of  sins  of  o:\nssioN. 

tlie  vineyard  of  your  Lord.  Life  is  not  a  time,  the 
world  is  not  a  place,  for  indolent  repose.  Let  your 
lamps  be  trimmed,  your  lights  burning,  and  ye  your- 
selves like  to  servants  waiting  for  the  coming  of  their 
Lord,  that  when  he  cometh  ye  may  enter  in,  and  sit 
down  to  the  feast  which  he  hath  prepared.  Blessed 
are  those  servants  whom  the  Lord,  when  he  cometh, 
shall  find  so  doing.  For  then  shall  they  rejoice  with 
joy  unspeakable ;  then  their  labor  shall  be  without 
sorrow,  theii*  spiritual  improvement  without  interrup- 
tion, and  their  eternal  life  shall  be  an  animated,  power- 
ful, glorious,  unwearied  progress  in  virtue,  knowledge 
and  happiness. 


THE  GIVING  OF  OUR  HEARTS  TO  GOD. 


Proverbs  xxiir.  26. 
"ITy  son,  give  me  thine  heart." 

In  Scripture  language,  tlie  heart  is  a  term  of  large 
compreliension  ;  and,  in  its  varied  use,  will  be  found  to 
represent  all  the  faculties  of  the  incorj)oreal  nature  of 
man.  It  is  sometimes  put  for  the  intellect,  as  where 
the  youthful  Solomon,  just  raised  to  the  throne,  asks 
of  God,  "  Give  thy  servant  an  understanding  heart,  to 
judge  thy  people,  that  I  may  discern  between  good 
and  bad."  In  another  place,  it  means  the  memory,  as 
when  the  Evangelist  has  related  the  circumstances 
attending  the  birth  and  childhood  of  Jesus,  he  says 
of  the  blessed  Virgin :  "  His  Mother  kept  all  these 
sayings  in  her  heart.'"  Thus  by  referring  to  different 
passages  of  Holy  Writ,  it  might  easily  be  shown  that 
this  single  word  is  also  used  for  the  judgment,  the 
imagination,  the  will ;  and  again,  with  equal  clearness, 


316  THE    GrV'ING    OF   OUE   HEAKTS   TO    GOD. 

for  the  affections,  as  hope,  fear,  and  love.  We  are 
accustomed,  liowever,  to  restrict  its  meaning  to  the 
latter  department  of  our  spiritual  nature,  and  to  use  it 
only  as  synonymous  with  some  passion  or  emotion. 
The  accuracy  of  intellectual  science  may  require  this 
discrimination  in  the  use  of  terms,  and  the  discoveries 
of  physiology  may  perhaps  authorize  us  to  assign  the 
seat  of  intellectual  action  to  one  part  of  this  wonderful 
organization  of  matter,  which  God  has  made  the  habi- 
tation of  the  spirit,  and  to  give  the  affections  a  different 
location.  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  speaking  of  religion  and 
its  influences,  of  man  and  his  relations  to  God,  we  ad- 
mire and  venerate  the  idiom  of  sacred  language,  and  we 
discover  deep  truth  and  sound  philosophy  in  what  we 
may  call  the  Bible  theory  of  man's  physical  nature, 
which  makes  the  understanding  to  reside,  and  the  will 
to  originate,  in  the  same  place  with  the  affections. 
From  this  general  and  indiscriminate  use  of  the  term 
lieart  in  the  sacred  writings,  may  we  not  infer  the  doc- 
trine which  they  teach,  also,  by  many  and  exj)licit 
assertions,  that  the  homage  of  the  intellect  and  the 
obedience  of  the  will  are,  then,  only  acceptable  to  God 
when  they  are  moved,  controlled,  and  warmed  by  the 
affections  ?  This  truth  gives  j)eculiar  force  to  the  words 
of  the  text,  and  furnishes  the  key  by  which  the  trea- 
sures of  love  and  wisdom  contained  in  them  are  to  be 
opened  and  appropriated. 

"  My  son,  give  me  thine  heart."  How  simple,  how 
easily  uttered,  and  yet,  coming  from  the  seat  of  paren- 
tal authority,  and  breathing  the  tenderness  of  parental 


i 


THE    GIVING    OF   OUR   IIEAETS    TO    GOD.  317 

love,  they  demand,  in  return,  all  tlie  fondest  affections 
which  a  child  can  feel  for  a  venerated  father,  and  all 
the  obedience  which  can  be  rendered  to  his  wholesome 
instructions  and  faithful  admonitions.  Thus  spake  the 
wise  king  of  Israel  to  his  own  beloved  son  ;  and  thus, 
being  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  though  dead,  he  yet 
speaks  to  every  son  of  Adam  who  goes  to  learn  of  him 
as  the  father  of  wisdom.  But  while  pondering  these 
words,  we  feel  that  a  greater  than  Solomon  is  here ; 
that  a  wiser  than  Solomon  hath  dictated  them,  and 
caused  them  to  be  recorded.  We  have  heard  them, 
and  we  proclaim  them  as  from  the  great  Father  of  us 
all.  It  is  He,  who,  prompted  by  the  immeasurable 
and  inexhaustible  love  of  a  Heavenly  Parent,  speaks 
to  men  as  his  children,  and  addressing  each  one  of  us, 
in  multiform  yet  special  adaptations  and  combinations 
of  his  Providence,  his  Word,  and  his  Grace,  asks  of  us 
a  gift,  the  purest  and  most  precious  we  have  to  bestow. 
Yes,  the  solicitation  is  individual,  it  is  designed  to  reach 
every  one  of  us  ;  and  when  the  spirit  is  calm  and  atten- 
tive, and  has  learned  to  distinguish  the  still,  small  voice 
of  God,  ever  speaking  from  all  around,  and  all  within 
us,  its  utterance  will  be — "  My  son,  give  me  thine 
heart."  He  asks  the  heart,  because  this  freely  and 
fully  rendered  up,  all  the  other  spiritual  faculties  go 
with  it,  or  are  drawn  after  it,  by  a  sweet  necessity ; 
because,  bound  to  it  by  chains,  light  and  pleasant,  yet 
strong  as  the  bonds  of  love. 

Such  is  the  constitution  of  our  nature.     God  so 
made  man,  when  he  formed  him  out  of  the  dust  of  the 


318  THE   GrV^ING    OF    OUR   HEAETS    TO    GOD. 

ground  and  breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  life.  The 
affections  control  the  inner  man,  and  the  outer  man  is 
so  constructed,  that  it  most  readily  yields  itself  to  the 
influence  of  these  affections,  speaking  their  language  in 
the  beaming  or  tearful  eye,  and  the  animated  or  de- 
jected features,  and  transmitting  their  movements,  from 
soul  to  soul,  by  the  power  of  sympathy.  And  the 
whole  of  God's  providential  government  of  the  moral 
world,  and  the  entire  structure  of  his  revelation,  are 
adapted  to  this  primary  law  of  our  nature.  Is  the  un- 
derstanding first  or  principally  addressed,  in  either,  or 
is  the  system  of  either  so  framed  as  to  bring  an  abso- 
lute and  constraining  power  to  exert  its  influence  upon 
the  will  ?  By  no  means.  Let  us  look  at  both,  and 
we  shall  find  that,  in  perfect  and  beautiful  harmony, 
they  would  first  arrest,  and  then  inform,  the  under- 
standing— ^first  excite,  and  then  bind  the  will  through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  affections. 

Let  us,  then,  view  God's  providential  government 
of  the  moral  world  in  its  adaptation  to  the  nature  of 
man.  By  this  government  we  mean  all  those  laws 
which  originate  from  the  social  and  probationary  state 
in  which  we  are  placed,  and  all  those  influences  that 
are  brought  to  bear  upon  us  through  the  varied  trials 
and  discij)line  of  life.  That  God  is  at  the  head  of  such 
a  government,  wielding  its  authority  and  directing  its 
movements,  no  conscientious  Deist,  ever,  and  certainly 
no  believer  in  revelation,  could  doubt  for  one  instant. 
Xow  what  is  the  grand  object  of  all  this  system  ?  If 
to  arrest  and  inform  the  uuderstanding,  why  are  its 


THE   GIVING    OF   OUR    HEARTS    TO    GOD.  319 

operations  involved  in  so  many  difficulties  and  obscu- 
rities which  the  brightest  and  most  sagacious  intellect, 
unaided  by  revelation,  could  never  penetrate  or  recon- 
cile with  its  own  convictions ;  and  why  does  not  the 
discipline  of  the  mind,  alone,  in  proportion  as  it  is  ad- 
vanced, render  men  cheerfully  submissive  to  the  action 
of  God's  Providence  ?  Or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
design  of  the  moral  government  of  the  world  is  to 
control  the  will  in  the  first  instance,  how  is  it  that  the 
will  ever  rises  in  rebellion  against  the  painful  discipline 
of  this  government,  if  the  affections  be  not  touched  ? 

But,  granting  that  to  awaken,  expand,  invigorate 
and  direct  the  affections,  and,  through  them,  to  gain 
access  to  the  understanding,  and  to  control  the  will,  be 
the  theory  of  God's  moral  government,  how  perfect  its 
design ;  how  admirably  adjusted  all  its  parts ;  how  suc- 
cessful its  results !  To  illustrate  this  position  in  its  full 
extent,  and  to  show  how  the  affections  are  brought 
forth  and  nourished,  and  how,  even  in  their  infancy, 
they  wind  their  fond  arms  about  the  understanding, 
and  quicken  and  direct  its  powers,  and  draw  it  within 
the  reach  of  heavenly  influences  ;  and  how  they  take 
captive  the  will,  and  bring  it  into  close  alliance  with 
themselves,  and  thus  form  a  happy  coalition  of  all  the 
faculties  of  the  one,  sj^iritual  nature  of  man,  and  pre- 
pare it  to  be  made,  through  Divine  grace,  an  offering 
holy  and  acceptable  unto  the  Lord, — all  this  would 
take  as  long  as  to  unfold  and  illustrate  all  the  parts 
of  God's  moral  government,  and  to  follow  out  its  in- 
fluences upon  every  variety  of  human  character. 


320      THE  GrV^ING  OF  OUR  HEARTS  TO  GOD. 

To  such  a  task  no  finite  mind  is  equal.  To  exliibit 
the  nature  and  force  of  the  argument,  however,  let  us 
take  one  of  the  elements  of  that  great  system  of  disci- 
pline which  is  brought  to  bear  upon  human  nature,  and 
see  what  are  the  influences  it  exerts. 

Sorrow  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  means,  in  God's 
hands,  which  he  employs  to  })romote  our  spiritual  im- 
provement. "  By  the  sadness  of  the  countenance  the 
heart  is  made  better."  Afflictions  are  by  no  means  de- 
signed to  be  a  temporal  jDunishment  to  the  sufferer,  nor 
are  they  to  be  regarded,  alone,  as  part  of  the  evidence 
to  prove  our  fallen  state.  They  have  a  higher  and 
holier  commission  to  execute,  and  are  the  ministers  of 
love  and  mercy,  and  not  of  anger.  What,  then,  let  us 
inquire,  is  the  operation  of  sorrow,  and  to  what  part 
of  our  spiritual  nature  is  its  discipline  directed  ?  Does 
it  first  reach  the  understanding  with  any  happy  influ- 
ence ?  Does  it  enlarge  the  capacity  of  the  mind,  or 
quicken  the  exercise  of  its  powers  ?  Is  not  its  ten- 
dency, on  the  contrary,  to  stun  and  deaden  every  men- 
tal energy,  and  to  reduce  us  to  mere  creatures  of  feel- 
ing ?  Go  to  the  men  of  sorrow — and,  to  try  your  ex- 
periment, select  from  amongst  them  one  distinguished 
for  the  high  order  of  his  intellectual  endowments — let 
him  have  weighed  the  planets,  and  measured  their  or- 
bits, and  solved,  with  triumphant  success,  the  ab- 
strusest  problems  of  astronomical  science ;  or  let  him 
be  the  learned  and  lucid  expounder  of  the  facts  and 
laws  of  natural  or  mental  philosophy.  But,  sorrow  has 
overtaken  him,  and  shrouded  his  dwelling  in  gloom. 


THE   GIVESTG    OF    OUR   HEARTS   TO    GOD.  321 

The  light  of  his  eyes,  or  the  darling  child  of  his  affec- 
tions, lies  there,  cold  in  death.  Now,  when  you  come 
into  his  presence,  open  your  stores  of  wisdom ;  take  up 
your  argument  and  follow  it  out,  in  close  reasoning,  to 
its  logical  conclusions.  Speak  to  him  of  the  philosophy 
of  affliction  and  of  its  necessity,  as  forming  a  part  of 
the  moral  constitution  of  the  world ;  and  show  that  he 
could  not  reasonably  hope  for  exemption,  and  that  his 
grief  cannot  restore  the  dead  or  change  their  condition. 
Will  he  take  up  his  part  in  the  discussion  ?  Will  he 
meet  you  in  the  encounter  of  intellect  ?  Or  can  you 
draw  him  from  these  topics,  as  being  too  near  to  his 
present  condition,  and  direct  his  attention  to  his  favor- 
ite pursuits  ?  No ;  he  turns  from  you  in  agony ;  and, 
with  flooded  eyes,  and  a  heaving  bosom,  begs  you,  in 
pity,  to  spare  him ;  for  his  heart  is  breaking.  Cast 
away,  then,  your  hateful  2:)hilosophy ;  droj)  your  cold 
and  cruel  logic  ;  take  his  nerveless  hand  and  press  it 
to  your  own  sympathizing  heart ;  speak,  in  few  and 
simple  words,  of  the  loved  ones,  dej^arted ;  and  of  a 
better  world  beyond  the  grave ;  and  of  the  reunion  of 
the  blessed  in  the  land  of  spirits,  and,  if  you  cannot 
speak,  weep  with  him  that  weeps ;  and,  as  you  dej^art, 
he  will  say,  "  Friend,  thou  hast  poured  comfort  into  a 
bleeding  and  desolate  heart."  And  this  visit  to  the 
house  of  mourning  will  be  blessed  to  you,  and  blessed 
to  its  afflicted  inhabitant.  Sorrow  will  have  stirred 
up  the  embers  of  affections,  covered  up  and  almost 
smothered,  perhaps,  by  worldly  influences ;  and  kindle 
them  to  brightness  and  warmth.  Sorrow  will  take  the 
21 


322  THE   GIVESTG    OF   OUR   HEARTS   TO    GOD. 

affections,  flowing  sluggisli  in  polluted  channels,  and 
give  tliem  purity  and  quickened  motion,  and  make 
them  healthful  to  the  soul ;  like  the  waters  of  life.  If 
thus  it  be  with  afflictions,  that  excite  sorrow ;  so  is  it 
with  all  the  rest  of  God's  moral  government — the 
whole  is  designed  to  reach  the  affections,  and  there- 
fore the  solemn  proclamation  of  this  government  to 
those  who  will  hear  and  understand  aright  is,  "  My  son, 
g^ive  me  thine  heart." 

But  turn  we  now  to  a  more  direct  and  conclusive 
argument  in  support  of  our  position ;  and  one  suscepti- 
ble of  a  clearer  and  more  satisfactory  illustration.  The 
religion  of  the  Gospel ;  to  what  department  of  our 
spiritual  nature  is  it  addressed  ?  Where  do  its  doc- 
trines, its  precepts,  its  warnings,  its  exhortations,  find 
their  surest  and  earliest  response  ?  Its  simple  and 
touching  narratives,  its  beautiful  examples  of  holiness ; 
upon  what  faculties  of  ours  do  they  first  seize,  and 
longest  retain,  and  most  fully  satisfy,  and  never  fatigue, 
though  presented  in  ceaseless  repetition  ?  And  above 
all,  the  character  of  Jesus,  whose  loveliness,  dignity, 
mildness,  splendor,  simplicity,  truth,  consistency,  per- 
fection, no  epithet  of  mortal  language  is  equal  to  mea- 
sure or  worthy  to  express ;  how  does  it  find  its  en- 
trance into  man,  and  once  within,  where  is  it  throned, 
and  where  does  it  maintain  its  eternal  seat?  Who 
shall  answer  for  us  ?  Shall  we  call  the  Magians  from 
their  lofty  contemplations  on  the  starry  heavens  and 
their  deep  searchings  into  the  secrets  of  physical  na- 
ture ?     Shall  we  go  to  the  philosopher  buried  in  pro- 


i 


THE   GIVING    OF    QUE   HEARTS   TO    GOD.  323 

found  speculations  upon  the  causes  of  things,  or  the 
statesman  versed  in  the  theory  of  government,  and  fa- 
miliar with  all  the  windings  of  the  political  history  of 
nations  ?  Or  shall  we  call  the  sagacious  advocate,  who 
is  skilful  to  weigh  and  adjust  moral  evidence  ?  No ; 
we  will  summon  the  poor  labor-worn  tenant  of  some 
obscure  cottage,  whose  choicest  furniture  is  the  well- 
worn  Volume  of  sacred  truth.  And  we  will  prove  that 
he  can  understand  the  foundation  doctrines  of  revela- 
tion, and  repeat  its  few  but  all  embracing  precepts  of 
morality,  and  open  up  its  treasures  of  comfort  for  ad- 
versity here,  and  its  bright  hopes  for  hereafter;  and 
relate  and  appreciate  all  that  we  can  know  of  the 
meekness,  purity  and  maternal  love  of  the  sainted  vir- 
gin; and  the  fondness  of  John,  who  leaned  on  the 
bosom  of  his  Friend  and  Master ;  and  the  zeal,  frailty 
and  repentance  of  Peter,  who  drew  his  sword  to  defend 
his  Lord,  and  then  denied  him ;  and,  after,  went  out 
and  wept  bitterly,  and  was  forgiven ;  and,  farther,  de- 
mand of  this  humble  and  unlearned  one,  and  he  shall 
tell  of  all  the  wonderful  and  touching  incidents  of  the 
blessed  Saviour's  life ;  from  the  time  that  he  was  first 
seen,  the  feeble  Infant  with  Mary,  his  mother,  in  the 
manger  of  the  inn  of  Bethlehem ;  till  the  time  when 
he  hung  a  bleeding  victim  on  the  cross ;  his  sacred 
head  pierced  with  thorns,  his  quivering  limbs  in  agony, 
but  his  soul  peaceful  and  resigned,  until  all  was  ac- 
complished ;  and,  with  parting  breath  he  said,  "  It  is 
finished." 

All  this  he  shall  relate  with  the  minutest  accuracy 


324  THE   GIVING    OF   QUE   HEAETS   TO    GOD. 

and  the  deepest  interest  in  every  event,  and,  more  tlian 
this,  he  shall  give  the  reasons  for  all ;  and  show  how, 
in  one  place,  he  was  taught  to  forgive  injuries ;  in  an- 
other, to  bear  adversity ;  how,  when  ground  with  pov- 
erty, he  read  that  Jesus  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head ; 
and  he  felt  lightened,  and  even  joyous,  to  be  a  fellow- 
sufferer  with  his  Lord.  How,  when  sorrow  had  entered 
his  lowly  dwelling,  because  death  had  torn  the  little 
prattler  from  his  knee,  his  heart  was  consoled  in  think- 
ing that  Jesus  wept,  and  he  knew  that,  though  throned 
on  high,  he  could  still  sympathize  with  him  also,  and 
how,  under  every  trial  and  affliction,  he  found  counsel 
to  guide  him,  and  tender  words  to  heal  the  wounds  of 
his  heart ;  and,  above  all,  how  he  feared  not  death  be- 
cause Jesus  had  died,  and  been  the  tenant  of  the  tomb, 
and  had,  again,  risen  from  it  in  triumph,  and  he  had 
died  for  him,  and  procured  his  pardon,  and  had  re- 
vealed heaven  to  him,  the  home  of  the  careworn  and 
afflicted ;  and  was  now  preparing  there  the  many  man- 
sions for  the  righteous,  and  he  trusted,  for  him  and 
his  also ;  for  Jesus  was  their  Saviour  and  Lord,  their 
hope  and  trust  for  time  and  for  eternity. 

Now,  what  hath  mastered  all  the  spiritual  faculties 
of  this  obscure  and  humble  man ;  excited  his  mind ; 
stored  his  imagination ;  strengthened  his  memory ;  got 
possession  of  his  will  ?  Think  you,  if  the  Bible  had 
been  all  a  learned  and  subtle  demonstration ;  an  array 
of  cogent  and  logical  arguments ;  a  proof  a  priori  of 
the  Being  of  God,  and  a  learned  account  of  his  sepa- 
rate attributes,  each  in  its  just  order ;  a  demonstration 


i 


THE    GIVESTG   OF   OUR   HEARTS   TO    GOD.  325 

of  the  analogy  of  revelation  to  the  order  of  nature ; 
and  a  code  of  Christian  ethics,  arranged  in  heads,  and 
chapters,  and  divided  with  a  nice  discrimination  into 
sections  and  paragraphs; — ^think  you,  that  it  would 
have  reached  this  poor  man ;  that,  if  it  were  in  his  cot- 
tage, he  would  read  it,  day  by  day,  and  ponder  it,  and 
now  weep,  and  now  rejoice  over  its  blessed  pages,  and 
repeat  them,  and  show  that  their  truths  had  entered 
into  the  very  texture  of  his  soul  ?  No.  It  would 
never  have  entered  into  the  thoughts  of  men  to  multi- 
ply this  Sacred  Volume  till  it  should  be  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  remotest  inhabitant  of  earth  ;  it  would 
never  have  been  that  Book,  the  demand  for  which 
keeps  all  the  energies  of  supply  stimulated  by  every 
lower  motive  of  gain  and  every  nobler  one  of  benevo- 
lence on  the  full  stretch ;  not  even  then  accomplishing 
the  thousandth  part  of  its  work. 

It  is  because  the  Bible  speaks  to  the  affections  that 
it  is  and  must  ever  be  the  universal  book,  until  time 
shall  fulfil  all  its  prophecies,  and  then  cease  its  meas- 
urements, because  the  endless  day  hath  dawned ;  and 
then  the  Bible  shall  no  more  be  wanted,  because  the 
God  of  the  Bible,  and  the  Saviour  of  the  Bible,  and 
the  Kuigdom  of  the  Bible  shall  be  present  to  all  the 
sons  of  men.  But,  till  then,  it  shall,  more  and  more, 
be  read  by  all ;  and  be  the  guide  and  comfort  of  all ; 
because  it  speaks,  in  simplicity,  and  strength,  and  ten- 
derness, a  language,  understood  by  all,  and  unfolds 
truths  and  principles  which  the  highest  intellect  may 
dwell  upon,  without  ceasing,  and  still  be  learning ;  and 


326  THE   GIVING    OF    OUR   HEAETS   TO    GOD. 

yet,  by  wliicli  tlie  humblest  intellect  sball  not  be 
baffled  ;  and  because,  on  every  page,  and  as  tlie  sanc- 
tion of  every  precept,  and  tlie  prelude  to  every  doc- 
trine and  mystery,  it  says,  "My  son,  give  me  thine 
heart." 

It  is  the  lieai%  then,  which  God  demands ;  for  the 
empire  of  your  affections  He  is  striving.  He  does  not 
seek  the  homage  of  your  intellect  alone ;  he  would  not, 
with  tyrant  force,  bind  your  will ;  but  he  would  draw 
you  to  himself,  with  cords  of  a  man ;  and  these  are  the 
bands  of  love.  He  will  receive,  with  complacency,  the 
bended  knee,  and  the  rich  offerings  of  wisdom,  if  they 
are  the  tokens  of  reverence  and  affection  ;  and,  to  teach 
you  that  this  is  his  desire,  he  hath  made  his  revelation 
to  say,  and  his  whole  moral  government,  from  every 
part,  to  echo  back,  "  My  son,  give  me  thine  heart." 

And  now,  with  this  precious  and  love-spoken  re- 
quest, from  on  high,  graven  on  the  memory ;  ye  men, 
of  understanding  and  intellectual  might,  go  forth,  and 
learn  the  relative  value  of  your  mental  gifts  and  the 
affections  of  your  souls.  The  former  may  be  your 
treasure,  and  your  pride,  but  God  asks  them  not,  and 
wants  them  not.  The  latter  he  does  beg  of  you,  and 
entreats  you  to  give  him.  Cherish  them,  honor  them, 
therefore,  as  your  dearest  possessions ;  purify  them, 
and  yield  them  up  to  the  Father  of  spirits  and  live — 
live  not  for  the  world  and  its  fading  honors. 

Ye  holy  and  humble  men  of  heart,  unknown  and 
obscure,  who  feel,  at  moments,  grieved  that  no  sun- 
shine of  fame  brightens  your  path  ;  and  almost  envy 


THE   GIVING    OF   OUR   HEAETS    TO    GOD.  327 

the  few  that  thus  walk  in  the  glare  of  a  worldly  light, 
be  cheered  and  encouraged,  if  your  affections  are  warm 
and  active,  and  move  you  to  deeds  of  benevolence  to 
your  fellows,  and  sympathy  with  their  afflictions,  and 
to  the  constant  service  and  adoration  of  your  God  and 
Saviour. 

And,  lastly ;  Ye,  who  are  bending  under  a  load  of 
adversity,  or  are  yielding  to  the  pangs  of  sorrow,  lift 
up  the  hands  that  hang  down,  and  strengthen  the 
feeble  knees,  and  turn  to  the  God  of  all  consolation, 
and  sink  not  into  despondency  as  though  God  had  for- 
saken you,  or  was  chastising  you  in  anger.  He  chas- 
tens those  whom  he  loves,  and  scourges  every  son 
whom  he  receives,  and  if  ye  will  hear  it,  with  every 
afflictive  dispensation  there  comes  the  Father's  words 
fi'om  the  depths  of  the  Father's  love  "  My  son,  give 
me  thine  heart." 


THE  ORDINARY  MEANS  OE  GRACE  ALL 
SUEFICIENT. 


Luke    xvi.    31, 


"  Tf  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  neither  will  they  be  per- 
suaded though  one  rose  from  the  dead." 

The  assertion  contained  in  these  words  is  remark- 
able, and  may  perhaps  excite  astonishment  in  the 
minds  of  those  who  have  not  fully  considered  the 
grounds  u})on  which  it  is  made. 

That  a  messenger  from  the  dead,  returning  to  us 
with  the  secrets  of  his  dark  prison-house,  should  not 
command  a  more  implicit  faith,  and  exert  a  more  abso- 
lute control  over  our  conduct  than  the  pages  of  a  writ- 
ten revelation ;  this,  most  of  men  probably  would 
regard  as  an  extravagant  position.  We  are  apt  to 
imagine  that  if  we  could,  with  our  own  eyes,  have 
witnessed  the  event  which  the  Church  this  day  cele- 
brates,— if  we  could  have  beheld  the  Saviour  when  he 
broke  the  bars  of  death  and  rose  triumphant  from  the 


A 


OKDINAEY   MEANS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.      329 

grave,  every  difficulty  would  at  once  disappear  from 
our  minds,  all  hesitancy  in  regard  to  the  Christian  life 
would  at  once  be  overcome.  But  this  is  a  delusion 
which,  however  natural,  is  in  the  highest  degree  dan- 
gerous ;  it  is  a  delusion  that  we  ought  to  seek  to  put 
far  away  from  us.  A  due  consideration  of  the  words 
of  my  text  may  well  help  towards  accomplishing  this 
desirable  end. 

You,  no  doubt,  recognize  these  words  as  forming 
the  concluding  part  of  the  parable  of  the  rich  man 
and  Lazarus.  The  rich  man,  suffering  the  torments 
justly  inflicted  uj^on  him  for  a  life  of  selfish  indulgence, 
is  represented  as  beseeching  Abraham  to  send  Lazarus 
to  his  five  brethren  to  testify  unto  them,  lest  they, 
pursuing  the  same  wicked  career,  should  also  be  con- 
demned to  the  place  of  torment.  Abraham  replies : 
"  They  have  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  let  them  hear 
them."  But  the  rich  man  knowing  that  he,  himself, 
had  neglected  and  despised  these  faithful  monitors, 
believes  that  a  messenger  from  the  dead  would  have  a 
more  powerful  effect.  And  he  said,  "Nay,  Father 
Abraham,  but  if  one  went  unto  them  from  the  dead, 
they  will  repent."  He  is,  however,  told  that  if  his 
brethren  will  not  receive  Moses  and  the  Prophets  as 
Divine  messengers,  and  will  not  listen  to  their  instruc- 
tions, neither  will  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose 
from  the  dead. 

How  strikingly  were  these  words  illustrated  in  that 
day  !  Those  who  rejected  the  testimony  of  Moses  and 
the  Prophets  concerning  Jesus,  were  not  better  con- 


330     OEDLNAEY   MEANS    OF    GEACE   ALL-SUEFICIENT. 

vineed  wlien  in  Ms  own  person  lie  gave  the  fullest  and 
clearest  evidence  of  his  Divinity  in  his  glorious  conquest 
over  death  and  the  grave.  How  much  less  reason 
have  we  to  expect  a  messenger  from  the  other  world 
would  command  the  faith  and  obedience  of  those  who 
in  the  present  age  reject  Divine  revelation  !  If  they 
believe  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  and  Christ  and 
the  Apostles,  neither  would  they  be  persuaded  to  holi- 
ness of  life  by  any  other  means. 

To  place  this  important  subject  in  a  clear  point  of 
view,  I  shall, 

First^  Descril)e  the  nature  of  that  faith  which  a 
revelation  from  God  is  designed  to  produce. 

Secondly^  I  shall  show  that  he  who  rejects  the 
present  revelation  could  be  influenced  by  no  other 
means. 

Thirdly^  That  if  by  other  means  his  belief  were 
enforced,  it  would  be  destitute  of  the  requisites  of  a 
savins'  faith. 

o 

You  see,  therefore,  that  I  invite  you  to  a  discussion 
which,  if  it  threatens  to  be  tedious,  will  not,  I  trust, 
prove  unprofitable. 

I.  What  then  is  the  nature  of  that  faith  which  a 
revelation  from  God  is  designed  to  produce  ?  Is  it  a 
conviction  of  the  understanding,  or  a  control  of  the 
wiU  and  affections  ?  In  some  degree  it  is  both,  but 
the  latter  much  more  than  the  former,  and  the  former 
entirely  for  the  sake  of  the  latter.  The  understanding 
is  to  be  enlightened  and  gained  over  to  the  cause  of 
revelation,  merely  on  account  of  the  influence  it  exer- 


ORDINARY    aiEANS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.     331 

cises  over  the  moral  man.  The  object  of  God,  in  send- 
ing prophets  and  holy  men,  and  last  of  all  his  blessed 
Son,  was  not  simply  to  tell  us  of  his  being  and  attri- 
butes, to  vindicate  his  providence,  to  unfold  his  scheme 
of  redemption  ;  l)ut  all  these  grand  discoveries  were 
made  that  man  might  become  a  renewed  creature,  be 
raised  from  his  state  of  sin,  and  be  prepared  for  holi- 
ness and  happiness.  Moral  ignorance  was  dispelled 
for  the  purpose  of  destroying  moral  corruption.  Were 
the  information  of  man,  as  an  intellectual  being,  the 
chief  design  of  God  in  revelation,  the  plan  would  seem 
grander  than  the  object  demanded.  The  intellect  of 
man  separated  from  his  moral  nature  can  make  vast 
discoveries  unaided  from  above.  He  could  not,  to  be 
sure,  without  revelation  leaiii  any  thing  truly  about 
God  or  his  own  future  destination.  But  if  you  look 
at  him  merely  as  a  being  of  mind,  there  would  be  vast 
sco]3e  for  the  exercise  of  his  powers  in  the  philosophy 
of  nature,  and  the  philosophy  of  mind  itself;  and  in 
these  subjects  his  unaided  progress  is  as  rapid  as  his 
necessities  or  interests  demand.  But  man  is  not  to  be 
regarded  in  this  limited  view  ;  his  grand  distinction  is 
that  he  has  a  soul,  and  his  chief  happiness  depends 
upon  the  condition  of  this  part  of  his  moral  nature. 
It  is  the  purifying  and  elevating  of  the  soul  of  man 
which  is  the  great  design  of  the  Supreme  Being  in  the 
discoveries  of  revelation.  And  therefore  the  same 
Gospel  is  preached  to  the  rich  and  the  poor,  to  the 
wise  and  the  ignorant,  and  the  salvation  of  the  one  is 
accomplished  exactly  as  is  the  salvation  of  the  other. 


332     OEDLSrAEY   MEANS    OF   GEACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT. 

Tlie  wisest  and  brightest  intellect  must  receive  and 
profess  tlie  truths  of  the  Gospel  precisely  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  simplest  and  most  ignorant  of  the  sons 
of  men. 

Hence  we  learn  the  nature  of  that  faith  which 
revelation  is  designed  to  produce.  It  is  not  the  faith 
of  demonstration ;  that  is,  it  is  not  a  faith  accom- 
plished Iby  infallible  arguments  addressed  to  the  un- 
derstanding alone.  In  such  a  faith  there  is  no  merit, 
and  no  improvement  wrought  in  the  sj^iritual  nature 
of  man.  He  cannot  resist  such  arguments  any  more 
than  he  can  resist  the  knowledge  which  his  senses 
convey  to  his  mind.  We  talk  sometimes  among  theo- 
logians of  a  demonstration  of  the  being  and  attributes 
of  God.  But  I  shall  consider  a  man  who  had  gone  no 
farther  than  this,  however  thoroughly  he  might  have 
gone  thus  far,  as  having  hardly  entered  the  threshold 
of  religion.  Who  can  resist  a  demonstration  if  it  is  a 
just  one,  and  the  mind  fully  embraces  it  ?  But  religion 
demands  moral  persuasion ;  and  this  can  be  j^roduced 
by  arguments  far  short  of  demonstration,  and  is  pro- 
duced in  minds  incapable  of  comj^rehending  a  process 
of  reasoning.  Moral  persuasion  is  not  an  intellectual 
process  merely,  the  heart  and  affections  are  essentially 
concerned  with  it.  It  supposes  ^drtuous  dispositions. 
As  our  Saviour  has  said  :  "  If  any  man  wdll  do  his  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God,  or 
whether  I  speak  of  myself ; "  that  is,  if  a  man  obeys 
the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  and  really  desires  to 
understand  religion  for  the  sake  of  being  a  better  man, 


OKDINAllY    .^ILANS    01'^   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.     333 

none  of  its  trutlis  or  evidences  sliall  be  concealed  from 
liim. 

II.  Now,  therefore,  with  this  explanation  of  the  nature 
of  religious  faith,  and  with  this  idea  clearly  impressed 
upon  our  minds,  that  faith  is  a  sentiment  of  the  heart, 
regulated  and  controlled  as  every  sentiment  should  be 
by  the  understanding,  let  us  for  a  moment  turn  our 
attention  to  the  evidences  of  revelation,  and  see  how 
admirably  they  are  adapted  to  produce  this  faith.  We 
discover  in  the  Sacred  Volume  none  of  the  method 
and  regularity  of  science ;  it  has  no  formal  demonstra- 
tions ;  its  arguments  are  level  with  the  capacities  of 
aU  men,  because  they  are  addressed  chiefly  to  the  con- 
science ;  they  require  no  peculiar  learning  or  mental 
discipline  to  comprehend  them.  It  may  be  said,  indeed, 
that  to  comprehend  prophecy,  and  the  whole  system 
of  historical  evidence,  requu^es  learning  and  a  good 
degree  of  mental  application.  It  does  so,  indeed  ;  and 
therefore  I  believe  that  very  few  persons  are  ever 
wrought  upon  in  the  first  instance  by  this  kind  of 
e\'idence.  It  serves  admirably  to  confirm  that  which 
is  more  simple,  and  which  is  generally  first  in  point  of 
time,  the  evidence  arising  from  the  purity  and  excel- 
lence of  the  Gospel  and  its  perfect  adaptation  to  the 
spiritual  wants  of  man.  How  many  of  the  devout 
and  well  established  Christians  of  the  present  day 
have  ever  pursued  the  train  of  reasoning  and  investi- 
gation which  belongs  to  the  historical  evidence  of  Chris- 
tianity i  I  suspect  a  very  limited  number.  Nor  have 
they  felt  the  want  of  this  to  confirm  their  faith. 


334     OEDINAEY   JEEANS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT. 

Upon  this  point  I  am  aware  tliat  I  am  at  variance 
"witli  one  of  the  mighty  names  in  Theology,  the  great 
and  good  and  actively  benevolent  Dr.  Chalmers.  In 
his  treatise  upon  the  Evidences,  which  fii-st  appeared 
as  the  article  ;  Christianity,  in  the  Edinburgh  Encyclo- 
paedia, and  which  was  afterwards  published  in  a  sepa- 
rate form,  he  lays  the  principal  stress  upon  the  his- 
torical argument.  But  constant  experience  is  against 
him.  And  besides,  upon  this  point  we  can  sum- 
mon from  the  dead  a  name  mightier  than  his  own — 
Horsely,  the  giant  conqueror  of  Socinianism  and  Infi- 
delity. "  I  would  not,"  says  he,  "  be  thought  to  dispar- 
age the  proof  of  revelation  from  historical  evidence 
and  prophecy.  I  am  satisfied  that  whoever  is  qualified 
to  take  a  view  of  but  one  half,  or  a  much  less  propor- 
tion of  the  proof  of  that  kind  which  is  now  extant  in 
the  world,  will  be  overpowered  with  the  force  of  it. 
But  of  those  in  any  one  age  of  the  world  who  may  be 
capable  of  receiving  the  full  benefit  of  this  proof,  I 
question  whether  the  number  be  greater  than  of  those 
in  the  Apostolic  age,  who  were  in  a  situation  to  re- 
ceive the  benefit  of  ocular  demonstration.  And  I 
would  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  common  ground  of 
conviction  there  may  be  for  all  men,  of  which  the  igno- 
rant and  the  learned  may  equally  take  advantage. 
Now  the  ground  of  conviction  to  the  plain  illiterate 
believer  is  evidently  his  sense  and  consciousness  of  the 
excellence  of  the  Gospel  doctrine.  This  is  an  evidence 
which  is  felt  in  its  full  force,  no  doubt,  by  many  a  man 
who  can  hold  no  argument  about  the  nature  of  its  cer- 


OEDINAET   IVIEAl^^S    OF    GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIElSrT.     335 

tainty — by  him  wlio  holds  tlie  plough  or  tends  the 
loom,  who  hath  never  been  sufficiently  at  leisure  from 
the  laborious  occupations  of  necessitous  life  to  specu- 
late upon  moral  truth  or  beauty  in  the  abstract.  A 
devout  and  honest  mind  refers  the  doctrines  and  pre- 
cepts of  religion  to  that  exemplar  of  the  good  and  fair 
which  it  carries  about  with  itself  in  its  own  feelings. 
By  their  agreement  with  this  it  understands  their  ex- 
cellence. Understanding  their  excellence  it  is  disposed 
to  embrace  them  and  to  obey  them,  and  in  this  dispo- 
sition listens  with  candor  to  the  external  evidence." 

"We  here,  therefore,  see  the  absolute  importance  of 
the  moi'al  qualities  of  the  heart  in  producing  faith. 
And  the  evidences  of  the  Gospel  are  addressed  to  those 
in  whom  these  qualities  are  found.  They  can  and  they 
will  appreciate  them.  But  the  cold  hearted,  and  selfish, 
and  depraved,  those  whose  thoughts  are  devoted  to 
the  world,  they  cannot  appreciate  the  evidences  of  the 
Gospel ;  intellectual  cultivation  gives  them  no  aid ; 
nay,  rather,  throws  impediments  in  their  way,  by  quick- 
ening them  to  discover  the  difficulties,  while  their 
hearts  and  consciences  are  insensible  to  the  influences 
of  di\dne  truth. 

III.  But  it  may  be  said,  that  for  such  persons  some 
extraordinary  evidence  is  required.  These  are  the  very 
persons  upon  whom  some  experiment  should  be  made. 
Here  we  adopt  the  principle  of  our  text — if  they  listen 
not  to  divine  revelation  as  it  now  stands,  neither  will 
they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose  from  the  dead. 
Observe  the  force  of  the  word  "  persuaded."   We  do  not 


336     OEDIlSrAET   MEANS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT. 

say  tliat  they  miglit  not  be  agitated  or  alarmed,  or 
driven  awhile  from  their  wicked  courses.  But  no  per- 
manent good  could  be  wrought  upon  them  by  any 
means  of  moral  conviction.  And  why  ?  Because  they 
are  not  susceptible  of  this  species  of  conviction. 

Suppose,  for  example,  that  to  one  of  the  brothers  of 
the  rich  man,  one  totally  absorbed  in  worldly  projects 
of  wealth  and  ambition,  finding  all  his  good  and  all  his 
happinesss  in  such  pursuits,  a  messenger  comes  from 
the  dead  and  repeats  to  him  what  the  Scriptures  de- 
clare of  the  punishments  of  hell  and  the  joys  of 
heaven.  And,  certainly,  no  language  which  man  can 
comprehend  could  be  more  forcible  than  that  which 
tells  us  of  everlasting  burnings,  and  the  worm  that 
gnaws  upon  the  conscience  and  never  dies,  and  of  joys 
which  eye  hath  not  seen  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath 
it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.  These 
representations  are  as  powerful  as  any  that  could  be 
brought  to  us  from  the  other  world.  But  then,  here 
is  a  messeng^er  who  has  himself  seen  them.  He  tells 
this  worldly  man  of  the  torments  his  brother  endures, 
and  of  the  joys  that  are  in  Abraham's  bosom.  He  has 
just  been  permitted  to  come  thence  to  give  him  a  last 
and  most  solemn  warning  to  abandon  his  iniquities 
and  so  escape  the  d/imnation  that  threatens  him.  I 
can  conceive  that  this  man  is  agitated  and  alarmed  be- 
yond measure;  he  nauseates  the  feast  spread  before 
him ;  he  silences  the  tabret  and  harp ;  he  retreats  pale 
and  trembhng  from  his  ungodly  companions  ;  or,  if  he 
be  at  the  money  tables  and  the  exchanger's,  he  flies 


OEDINARY   MEANS    OF    GEACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.     337 

regardless  from  liis  heaps  of  gold  and  silver;  they  have 
lost  their  value  in  his  esteem ;  or  if  he  be  pleading  be- 
fore Herod  or  Agrippa,  or  seeking  new  honors  at  the 
im^Derial  court  of  Ci^sar,  or  new  triumphs  in  the  senate 
or  the  forum,  he  abandons  all  wealth,  and  distinction,  and 
popular  applause ;  he  seeks  the  most  solitary  chamber 
of  his  house ;  he  is  drowned  in  penitential  tears ;  he 
falls  upon  the  ground  and  prays  in  the  agony  of  his 
spirit ;  he  refuses  food  and  consolation  ;  he  resists  the 
mixed  entreaties  and  ridicule  of  his  former  companions. 
All  this  may  continue  for  some  days,  perhaps  weeks. 
But  at  last  the  impression  left  by  the  supernatural  vis- 
itor begins  to  fade — he  commences  reasoning  about  it. 
It  might  not  have  been  exactly  as  he  imagined.  Per- 
haps his  mind  was  distempered ;  he  had  weakened 
it  by  over  exertion ;  or  it  had  not  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  the  last  intemperate  feast ;  if  the  messenger 
did  actually  come,  let  him  appear  once  more  and  he 
will  be  con\inced.  Upon  the  whole  it  is  better  not  to 
lose  the  certainties  of  present  enjoyment  for  that  which 
might  possibly  have  been  a  phantom  of  the  imagina- 
tion. At  any  rate  he  has  had  the  warning,  and 
he  will  meditate  upon  it  more  deliberately  by  and 
by.  Although  these  punishments  are  threatened,  yet 
not  till  after  death,  and,  thank  God,  there  is  no  proba- 
bihty  of  his  dying  at  present.  Thus  at  last  the  impres- 
sion has  vanished  or  left  only  traces  as  faint  as  did  the 
solemn  truths  of  Holy  Writ.  What,  then,  has  a  mes- 
senger from  the  dead  ultimately  benefited  him  more 
than  Moses  and  the  prophets  ?     Nothing.     He  is  still 

90, 


338     OEDINAEY   MEANS    OF   GEACE   ALL-SUTFICLENT. 

the  same  worldly,  profligate  creature  that  lie  was  be- 
fore. If  he  had  the  temper  and  dispositions  perma- 
nently to  be  improved  by  a  messenger  from  the  dead, 
he  would  not  have  needed  one,  for  he  would  have  heard 
Moses  and  the  Prophets. 

Mj  brethren,  are  not  these  suppositions  reasona- 
ble ?  Are  they  not  confirmed  by  experience  ?  Have 
you  never  heard  of  a  dissolute  or  worldly  man,  brought 
by  some  powerful  disease  to  the  borders  of  the  grave  ? 
While  in  that  state  the  future  world  was  present  to 
his  mind  in  all  its  reality.  He  could  not  have  been 
more  convinced  of  the  vanity  of  worldly  things,  of  the 
awfulness  of  eternity,  of  the  importance  of  saving  his 
soul,  even  if  a  messenger  from  the  dead  was  standing 
by  his  bedside.  Oh !  how  does  he  groan  for  his  past 
transgressions,  how  does  he  repent  of  the  time  lost  and 
misemployed,  how  does  he  pray  for  another  opportu- 
nity, a  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer.  Oh !  might 
he  stay  to  fit  him  for  his  passage.  How  abundant  is 
he  in  vows  and  resolutions.  His  faith  in  the  promises 
and  threatenings  of  the  Gospel  is  so  strong  that  even 
an  Angel  from  Heaven  could  not  add  to  it.  But  his 
prayers  for  restoration  are  heard.  The  skill  and  the 
exertions  of  the  friendly  physician  are  blessed,  his  dis- 
ease assumes  a  favorable  appearance,  and  he  slowly 
and  gradually  returns  to  his  former  health  and  strength. 
But  how  have  his  religious  impressions  decayed  as 
bodily  vigor  has  increased.  His  vows  of  reformation 
melt  away  one  after  the  other  under  the  influence  of 
temptation.     All   his   former   impressions   of  Gospel 


ORDIITAET   MEANS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.     339 

trutli,  and  realizings  of  tlie  world  to  come  appear  now 
as  idle  dreams  wliicli  lie  regards  not.  And  lie  differs 
not  from  the  man  he  was  before,  except  that  he  returns 
to  worldly  pleasures  and  pursuits  with  an  appetite  in- 
creased by  temporary  abstinence.  He  can  laugh  at 
his  former  fears,  and  despise  the  goodness  and  long- 
suffering  of  his  God  which  called  him  to  repentance. 
Such  instances,  if  not  common,  have  yet  occurred  often 
enough  to  establish  our  position.  He  who  hears  not 
Moses  and  the  Prophets,  will  not  be  persuaded  though 
one  rose  from  the  dead,  nor  though  the  king  of  terrors 
comes  himself  and  stands  for  hours  brandishing^  his 
awful  dart  at  the  side  of  the  couch  of  sickness,  ready 
each  moment  to  strike,  till  mercy  interposed  the  shield 
of  restoration. 

We  have  thus  considered  the  influence  of  a  messen- 
ger from  the  dead  upon  a  single  individual.  But  if 
one  might  ask  for  this  means  of  conviction,  why  not 
all  ?  God  must  deal  justly  and  equally.  And  supj)ose 
it  were  granted  to  all,  is  it  not  obvious  that  the  fre- 
quency of  the  miracle  would  destroy  its  effect  ?  ]\Iira- 
cles  of  divine  mercy  and  power  are  exhibiting  before 
us  every  day  and  every  hour  of  our  lives ;  the  sun  that 
daily  rises  and  sets  at  his  appointed  time,  and  cheers 
the  earth  with  his  light  and  heat,  and  is  not  fatigued 
with  centuries  of  revolutions,  but  measures  the  days 
and  months  as  they  pass  and  tracks  the  mariner  with 
unerring  certainty ;  the  sure  approaches  of  the  cheer- 
ing spring,  that  covers  the  brown  earth  Avith  its  carpet 
of  green,  and  sj^rinkles  its  flowers  upon  the  meadows, 


340     OEDmAEY   MEANS    OF    GEACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT. 

and  dresses  the  naked  branclies  witli  tlieir  leafy  honors, 
and  wakes  the  annual  song  of  birds;  tlie  hand  of 
Providence,  that  is  bountifully  opened  and  feeds  the 
beasts  upon  a  thousand  hills,  and  gives  to  thankless 
man  his  daily  sustenance ;  these  are  in  themselves 
miracles  as  great  as  the  raising  of  the  dead,  but  we 
heed  them  not,  because  they  are  familiar.  If,  then, 
once  in  each  century,  or  in  each  year,  a  messenger 
should  come  and  proclaim  to  the  world  the  secrets  of 
the  grave  and  describe  the  unknown  world  that  lies 
beyond  it,  what  advantage  could  accrue  to  us  ?  What 
stronger  evidence  should  we  have  for  revealed  truth, 
what  more  powerful  inducements  to  obey  it  ?  None, 
certainly  none.  We  indulge  a  vain  and  deceptive 
thought  when  we  say,  if  one  rose  from  the  dead  to 
speak  to  us  we  would  repent.  God  has  furnished  us 
with  every  testimony  that  is  needful  for  our  moral  per- 
suasion, and  this  is  the  only  faith  he  demands  or  will 
accept ;  for  it  is  the  only  faith  which  evidences  a  hum- 
ble and  teachable  mind,  loving  the  purity  of  vii^tue,  or 
desiring  the  favor  of  God  as  its  best  reward.  Were 
this  the  morning  of  the  resurrection  day ;  had  the  Re- 
deemer lately  expired  before  us  on  the  cross,  and  had 
we  in  wonder  and  awe  been  to  examine  the  sej^ulchre 
where  Jesus  lay,  and  with  our  own  eyes  beheld  the 
broken  seal  and  the  folded  linen  clothes,  and  heard  the 
story  of  the  pious  women  and  faithful  disciples  ;  were 
we  now  assembled  to  speak  of  these  things  and  rea- 
son upon  the  wonderful  event,  think  you  we  should  all 
be  found  faithful?     Might  there  not   be  impenitent 


A 


ORDINARY   MEATUS    OF    GRACE   ALL-SUFFICIENT.     341 

Scribes  and  hardened  Pharisees  ?  At  least,  would 
there  not  be  found  among  us  the  incredulous  Thomas  ? 
He  resisted  the  evidence  and  assertions  of  his  brethren ; 
— except  I  thrust  my  finger  into  the  wounds  I  will  not 
believe.  Unreasonable  man,  he  had  not  the  comfort 
and  the  merit  of  free  conviction  ;  his  faith  was  forced, 
it  was  the  undeserving  faith  of  demonstration.  And 
how  does  our  Lord  accept  it  ?  With  cold  displeasure. 
"  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me  thou  hast  believed. 
Blessed  are  they  who  have  not  seen  and  yet  have 
believed." 

This  benediction  from  the  risen  Jesus  may  rest 
upon  our  heads,  beloved  brethren,  if  the  faith  he  com- 
mends be  found  in  our  hearts.  None  of  us  here  pres- 
ent, I  trust,  indulge  the  doubts  of  infidelity.  If  there 
be  such,  to  them  I  say,  ye  have  the  testimony  of  God 
against  yourselves.  Think  not  vainly  to  escape  because 
you  can  plead  that  the  evidences  of  Divine  truth  are 
not  satisfactory  to  your  mind.  Why  are  they  not  so  ? 
Not  because  they  are  not  in  themselves  sufficient.  You 
seek  a  demonstration  like  those  perhaps  of  mathemati- 
cal truth.  God  never  designed  to  give  it.  He  would 
not  force  your  faith.  You  could  not  avoid  receiving 
such  an  argument.  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  the 
human  mind  to  resist  demonstration.  But  he  deals 
with  you  as  a  moral  creature.  He  would  influence  the 
sentiments  of  your  heart  rather  than  command  the 
convictions  of  your  understanding.  For  the  cause  of  un- 
belief you  must  leave  the  word  of  God  and  search  your 
own  heart.     There  you  will  find  it,  in  its  selfishness 


342     OEDIlSrAEY   MEAXS    OF   GRACE   ALL-SUmCIElSrT. 

and  worldliness,  and  moral  corruption.  Purify  this 
even  by  the  streams  of  moral  truth,  by  obeying  the 
monitions  of  conscience,  and  you  will  soon  ascend  to 
the  fountain  that  flows  fast  by  the  oracles  of  God,  for 
nothing  but  its  pure  and  refreshing  waters  will  quench 
your  desires. 

To  you  who  ask  not  a  messenger  from  the  dead, 
but  profess  to  be  satisfied  with  the  testimony  of  Moses 
and  the  Prophets,  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles, — to  you, 
I  say,  examine  the  strength  and  influence  of  your  faith. 
Is  it  a  belief  resting  coldly  in  the  understanding  ?  or 
does  it  exhibit  itself  in  devout  affections  and  holy 
lives  ?  If  the  latter,  the  influence  of  such  a  faith  in 
quickening  you  to  holiness  of  life,  will  be  far  greater 
than  if  one  were  to  appear  before  you  from  the  dead. 


THE  POWER  OE  CHRIST'S  RESURRECTION. 


PhILIPPIANS   III.    10. 
That  I  may  know  liim  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection. 

The  power  of  Christ's  resurrection  is  placed  before 
us  upon  this  day,  as  the  object  of  our  devout  contem- 
plation, and  our  ardent  and  united  thanksgiving.  The 
services  of  the  Church  perform  for  us  the  angel's  office, 
and  in  joyful  accents  declare  to  us,  "Ye  seek  Jesus 
which  was  crucified :  He  is  not  here,  for  he  is  risen,  as 
he  said.  Come  see  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay." 
Visiting,  in  our  meditations,  the  sepulchre  in  the  gar- 
den, and  remembering  how  recently  we  have  seen  Jesus 
expiring  in  agony  upon  the  cross,  his  sacred  body 
bleeding  and  torn,  invested  in  its  shroud  and  laid  in 
the  silent  tomb  ;  and  finding,  indeed,  that  according  to 
the  assurance  of  the  heavenly  messenger,  he  is  not 
there,  but  has  risen,  our  fear  gives  j)lace  to  hope,  our 
sorrow  is  turned  into  joy,  our  lamentations  into  songs 
of  praise.     This  morning  we  hail  and  commemorate  as 


344  THE   POWEE   OF   CHEISt's   EESUEEECTION. 

tlie  briglitest  and  most  cheering  of  all  tlie  year,  for 
upon  this  the  Sun  of  Eighteousness  hath  arisen  with 
heahng  in  his  beams. 

This,  therefore,  this  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath 
made ;  we  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it.  And  it  is 
thus  distinguished  and  made  the  occasion  of  peculiar 
praise,  because  upon  it  was  manifested  the  power  of 
Christ's  resurrection.  I  shall  adopt  this,  therefore,  as 
an  appropriate  theme  for  my  discourse,  and  shall  invite 
you  to  consider  what  is  implied  in  this  expression  of 
the  Apostle  Paul. 

He  had  been  recapitulating  the  privileges  he  for- 
merly enjoyed  as  a  member  of  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel,  and  he  declared  how  zealous  he  was  in  his  ad- 
herence to  them  before  his  conversion.  But  these  he 
had  relinquished  for  Christ ;  yea,  and  he  was  willing 
"to  count  all  things  but  loss,"  to  relinquish  every 
earthly  dej)endence  and  advantage,  so  that  he  might 
win  Christ  and  be  found  in  him,  and  might  know  him 
and  the  power  of  his  resurrection.  Now,  my  brethren, 
in  order  to  know  the  power  of  Christ's  resurrection,  we 
must  contemplate  this  wonderful  event  in  four  points 
of  view. 

First^  as  an  argument  for  the  truth  of  the  Gospel. 

Secondly^  as  an  incitement  to  hohness. 

Thirdly^  as  a  source  of  consolation  under  sorrows 
and  sufferings ;  and 

Lastly^  as  an  antidote  against  the  fear  of  death. 

Having  appreciated  the  event  which  the  Church 
this  day  celebrates,  in  its  influence  in  these  respects,  we 


THE   POWER    OF   CHRISt's    EESXJRRECTIOlSr.  345 

may  know  its  power,  and  then  witli  tlie  Apostle  we 
shall  be  ready  to  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord. 

I.  The  power  of  the  resurrection  is  manifested  in 
the  confirmation  it  affords  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel. 
If  Christ  be  not  risen,  says  the  Apostle,  in  that  sublime 
portion  of  his  Ej^istle  to  the  Corinthians,  in  which  he 
treats  of  this  subject, — ^if  Christ  be  not  risen,  then  is 
our  preaching  vain,  and  your  faith  is  also  vain.  This 
is  the  foundation  fact,  as  we  may  term  it,  of  all  revealed 
truth.  Bring  this  into  disbelief  or  doubt,  and  the 
whole  fabric  totters  to  its  fall.  Its  powerful  expo- 
sitions of  the  great  principles  of  moral  truth,  its  clear 
and  forcible  delineations  of  moral  duty,  and  its  beau- 
tiful and  perfect  models  of  every  human  virtue  would 
indeed  remain ;  but  they  would  be  left  to  us  like  sculp- 
tured fragments  of  ancient  time ;  and  whilst  we  walked 
amongst  them  and  admu^ed  their  beauty  and  fair  pro- 
portion, we  might  say  in  deep  regret — here  once  they 
stood,  these  shattered  columns,  these  polished  stones, 
these  fallen  statues,  combined  together  in  strength  and 
majesty,  a  temple  reaching  to  the  skies,  sacred  to  the 
divinity  that  inhabits  them,  and  calling  assembled  mul- 
titudes to  worshij)  and  bow  down  before  him.  And 
this  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  Gospel  scheme, 
the  strong  combination  of  all  its  parts,  its  revealed 
doctrines  with  its  moral  precepts,  and  their  perfect 
adaption  to  each  other,  and  the  whole  to  the  nature 
and  the  wants  of  man,  constitutes  an  irresistible  ar- 


346  THE   POWER   OF   CHRIST's    RESURRECTION. 

gument  for  its  trutli.  But  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ  tliat 
the  whole  building  fitly  framed  together  groweth 
unto  a  holy  temple ;  and  the  di\anity  of  Jesus,  and 
the  truth  of  his  mission,  rest  u23on  the  fact  of  his 
resurrection  from  the  dead.  What  satisfaction  then 
and  confidence  has  the  Christian  in  contemplating  the 
manifold  and  powerful  evidence  by  which  it  has  been 
proved  in  such  a  manner,  as  no  other  past  event  was 
ever  attested,  that  He  burst  the  bars  of  death  and  rose 
triumphant ! 

It  is  not  my  design  to  enter  into  any  detailed  ac- 
count of  this  evidence,  for  although  appropriate  to  the 
day  we  celebrate,  it  is  a  subject  which  could  not  well 
be  confined  within  the  limits  of  a  single  discourse. 
Nor  is  such  an  argument  needed  for  your  confirmation. 
The  very  day  we  celebrate,  the  multitudes  whom  it 
calls  together  throughout  the  Christian  world,  the  long 
succession  of  years  to  which  it  looks  back  even  to  the 
very  week  after  the  resurrection  took  place,  and  while 
the  risen  Saviour  remained  yet  on  the  earth  and  was 
seen  by  numbers  of  his  followers,  who  uj)on  the 
strength  of  this  fact  alone  willingly  suffered  every 
privation,  and  joyfully  went  forth  unto  the  death  of 
martyrdom ;  and,  while  living,  assembled  on  the  first 
day  of  the  week  to  celebrate  it,  and  transmitted  this 
observance  to  their  successors  even  to  this  very  time : 
all  this  gives  the  fullest  confirmation  to  our  belief;  all 
this  proves  that  we  come  here  to  evince  our  belief  and 
to  rejoice  in  it,  and  to  praise  God  for  the  wonders  of 
his  power  and  the  extent  of  his  love,  as  manifested  in 


THE   POWER   OF    CHRIST  S    RESURRECTION.  347 

tlie  resurrection  of  Jesus  from  tlie  dead,  and  in  that 
Gospel  of  wliicli  it  is  tlie  fullest  confirmation. 

II.  And  this  faith,  when  it  leads  to  holiness  of  life, 
exhibits  the  power  of  the  resurrection  in  another  point 
of  view.  We  may  consider  it  as  the  great  and  efficient 
incitement  to  holiness.  Virtue  indeed  has  its  own 
allurements  and  its  own  peculiar  reward ;  and  there 
are  indeed  temporal  penalties  annexed  to  its  violation 
by  the  Author  of  all  purity  and  truth.  But  all  these 
motives  and  dissuasions,  however  admirable  they  may 
appear  in  the  systems  of  moral  philosoj)hy,  have  ever 
been  found  to  exert  but  little  practical  influence  upon 
the  life  and  character  of  men.  They  have  been  amusing 
speculations  to  exercise  intellectual  ingenuity ;  and  al- 
though in  themselves  they  exhibit  great  and  good 
principles,  princij^les  based  upon  eternal  and  immu- 
table foundations,  yet  they  have  not  been,  and  cannot 
be,  operative  principles  upon  the  great  body  of  man- 
kind. But  when  embodied  as  they  are  with  religion, 
and  enforced  by  its  sanctions,  they  are  understood,  ac- 
knowledged, felt  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  by  all  who 
have  known  the  name  of  Jesus  and  the  power  of  his 
resurrection.  What  religion  but  that  of  the  Gospel 
has  ever  accompanied  man  in  every  action  of  his  daily 
life,  and  penetrated  into  every  thought  and  afiection 
of  his  heart,  and  exercised  a  dominion  there  ?  It  is  not 
in  its  outward  observances  that  we  are  made  to  ac- 
knowledge the  power  of  the  Gospel ;  not  because  it 
has  forced  upon  men  the  conviction  of  the  unity  of  the 
Divine  nature,  and  made  them  adore  the  great  God 


348  THE    POWER    OF   CHEISt's   EESUEEECTIO]Sr. 

witli  external  rites,  and  offer  before  him  the  oblation 
of  prayers  and  praises ;  not  because  it  has  made  the 
Christian  child  to  understand  more  of  the  being  and 
attributes  of  a  great  First  Cause  than  the  wisest  of 
heathen  sages ;  not  in  these  respects  are  we  made  so 
sensible  of  the  influence  our  religion  exerts,  as  in  the 
personal  holiness  it  has  produced,  and  is  producing 
wherever  its  benign  truths  are  professed.  And  this, 
the  mode  of  its  silent  and  gradual  but  mighty  working, 
we  ascri])e  to  the  power  of  the  resurrection.  The  power 
of  the  resurrection,  not  simply  as  a  fact  confirming  the 
truth  of  religion,  but  also  as  a  doctrine  with  which  the 
whole  scheme  of  salvation  is  so  intimately  blended 
as  to  be  inseparable  from  it.  For  with  this  is  con- 
nected the  atonement  made  for  human  transgression, 
ftiith  which  justifies  without  the  deeds  of  the  law,  and 
sanctification  by  the  blessed  influences  of  the  Spirit  of 
God.  These  are  the  doctrines  ])y  which  the  hearts  of 
men  are  converted,  and  by  which  they  are  taught  to  feel 
the  necessity,  and  impelled  to  seek  the  attainment  of 
that  holiness  without  which  no  man  shall  see  God. 
Yes,  my  brethren,  it  is  in  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the 
Gospel  that  its  great  power  abides.  Not  in  its  moral 
code,  though  that  be  perfect ;  not  in  its  sanctions, 
though  they  be  eternal ;  for  these,  if  assented  to  by 
the  understanding,  are  not  felt  and  obeyed  by  the  un- 
renewed heart.  We  must  be  convinced  of  sin  before 
we  seek  for  righteousness,  and  with  St.  Paul  we  must 
be  found  in  Christ,  "  not  having  our  own  righteousness 
which  is  of  the  law,  but  that  which  is  through  the  faith 


THE   POWER    OF   CHRISt's    RESURRECTION.  349 

of  Christ,  the  righteousness  which  is  of  God  by  faith." 
Thus  then  the  power  of  the  resurrection  is  manifested 
as  an  incitement  to  holiness. 

III.  Nor,  in  the  third  place,  is  this  great  truth  less 
efficacious  as  a  source  of  consolation  under  sorrow  and 
sufterings.  Sometimes,  we  acknowledge,  there  are  tem- 
poral alleviations  for  the  trials  and  afflictions  which 
are  appointed  unto  men  as  a  part  of  the  discipline  they 
are  to  undergo  in  this  life.  But  they  are  alleviations 
only,  not  effectual  remedies.  And  at  last,  whatever 
may  be  their  influence,  how  uncertain  are  they.  When 
one  earthly  comfort  is  removed  from  us,  we  cling  to 
what  remains  with  greater  fondness,  and  the  heart  is 
certainly  relieved  by  turning  the  com-se  of  its  afflic- 
tions into  some  new  channel,  or  by  swelling  the  tide  in 
one  which  had  before  been  formed  ;  but  this  also  may 
be  choked,  and  in  succession  every  outlet  may  be 
closed — where  then  shall  the  waters  go  ?  Shall  they 
swell  inwardly  and  burst  the  heart  ?  Shall  they  be 
dried  up  at  the  fountain,  and  never  more  give  refresh- 
ing moisture  to  those  plants  which  make  this  wilder- 
ness a  garden  of  life  verdant  and  fragrant  ?  or  shall 
they  become  inwardly  a  well  of  water  springing  up 
unto  eternal  life  ?  The  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  which 
declares  his  resurrection  and  all  the  glorious  truths  for 
time  and  eternity  connected  with  it,  can  alone  accom- 
phsh  the  alternative.  It  is  in  the  power  of  religion  to 
assuage  any  grief,  to  remove  its  bitterness  from  any 
disappointment.  Ah  !  with  what  a  soothing  and  per- 
suasive power  does  its  language  fall  upon  the  ear,  and 


350  THE   POWER    OF   CHEISt's   EESUKRECTION. 

address  itself  to  tlie  afflicted  spirit.     "  Let  not  your 
hearts  be  troubled ;  ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in 
me."     "  In  my  Father's  bouse   are   many   mansions." 
"  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you."     "  Because  I  live  ye 
shall  live  also."     How  can  he  prepare  for  us  these  man- 
sions if  he  be  not  risen  from  the  dead  and  ascended  into 
heaven  ?     How  can  he  assure  us  of  immortality  if  we 
be  not  convinced  that  he  is  the  resuiTection  and  the 
life  ?     But  persuaded  of  these  truths,  what  more  can 
we  want  ?     "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee,  and 
there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  in  comparison 
of  thee."     We  need  a  resource  against  the  sorrows  and 
sufferings  of  life.     We  all  know  it.     And,  alas,  how 
many  of  us,  by  the  severe  and  oft-repeated  strokes  of 
God's  afflictive  Providence,  are  made  in  anguish  to  feel 
it.     To  whom  then  shall  we  go  ?     To  the  world,  or  the 
world's  amusements,  or  its  philosophy,  or  mere  world- 
ly friends  ?     No !     From  the  one,  we  tu;'n  with  utter 
dissatisfaction  ;  by  the  others,  we  are  abandoned.     To 
whom  shall  we  go  ?     Lord,  thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life,  and  these  words  alone  have  power  to  say 
to  our  agitated  and  troubled  breasts,  Peace,  l^e  still. 
And  therefore,  O  Saviour,  "  what  time  I  am  afraid  I 
will  trust  in  thee ;  in  the  multitude  of  my  thoughts 
within  me,  thy  comforts  delight  my  soul ;  yea,  in  the 
shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  make  my  refuge  until  these 
calamities  be  overpast ; " — yea,  the  last  calamity,  the 
hour  of  mortal  sickness,  and  the  j)ang  of  death. 

IV.  The  power  of  the  resurrection  at  this  season 
we  are  lastly  to  consider,  for  it  is  an  antidote  against 


THE   POWEE    OF   CHEISt's   EESUEEECTIOIT.  351 

the  fear  of  death.  Who  trembles  not  in  anticipation 
of  the  sure  ajiproach  of  this  awful  hour  ?  In  the  ex- 
citement of  conflict,  or  under  the  dull  influence  of  a 
stupefying  disease,  we  may  not  heed  the  king  of  ter- 
rors, and  his  threatening  dart.  But  contemplated  when 
not  under  the  influence  of  the  enthusiasm  which  makes 
men  brave  death,  or  not  suffering  that  despair  of  mind 
which  makes  them  solicit  him  to  come  as  a  friend,  it 
must  ever  be  an  awful  thing  to  die.  Even  when  sus- 
tained by  the  hopes  and  promises  of  the  Gospel,  how 
difiicult  is  it  to  look  forward  to  the  sure  termination 
of  our  mortal  career  with  calm  self-possession.  But 
without  the  light  which  the  Gospel  sheds — darkness, 
grief,  and  fell  despair  brood  over  the  grave.  We 
shrink  from  it  ourselves  with  instinctive  dread ;  we 
bid  an  heart-rending  and  eternal  farewell  to  the  dear 
objects  of  our  affections  who  have  gone  before  us  there. 
Imagine  for  a  moment — if  it  be  possible  to  bring  the 
mind  and  heart  to  such  a  state  of  destitution — imagine 
what  would  be  your  state  of  feeling,  having  no  know- 
ledge and  no  hope  of  a  future  world,  and  you  stood 
beside  the  bed  of  a  dying  parent,  or  friend,  or  child 
beloved,  and  saw  theu'  eyes  close  for  ever,  and  theii' 
breast  for  ever  cease  to  heave ;  and  after  cherishing 
and  weeping  over  the  lifeless  body  till  decaying  nature 
would  no  longer  permit,' — you  conveyed  it  in  mournful 
procession  to  the  place  of  the  dead,  and  you  stood 
by  as  it  sunk  from  your  sight,  and  your  ears  were 
agonized  with  the  sound  of  the  earth  falling  upon 
it  to  cover  it  from  you  for  ever,  what  would  be  your 


352  THE   POWEE   OF   CHEISt's   EESUEEECTION. 

state  of  feeling,  convinced  that  tlie  separation  was  eter- 
nal, that  never  more  should  you  behold  them,  that 
never  more  should  you  hold  sweet  communion  with 
them  ?  and  as  you  turned  to  go  to  your  desolate  home, 
you  looked  round  upon  the  graves  of  departed  genera- 
tions, and  said,  ere  long  I  shall  mingle  with  these,  and 
be  no  more  than  the  sods  upon  which  I  am  treading ; 
for  the  dead  can  never  more  behold  the  glorious  light, 
or  breathe  the  balmy  air,  or  think,  or  feel,  or  enjoy 
conscious  being.  They  are  nothing^  notliing ;  earthy 
senseless,  motionless  earth  !  But  you  cannot  put  your- 
self in  this  state,  you  cannot  realize  this  despair — the 
voice  of  the  Sj)iiit  within  us  is  too  powerful ;  it  would 
be  heard  even  in  the  ages  of  heathen  ignorance :  then  it 
spake  in  words  of  doubt  or  struggling  ho2)e ;  now  it 
speaks  in  strength  and  majesty,  "  thy  dead  men  shall 
rise  again,"  for  He  hath  abolished  death,  and  hath 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  Gos- 
pel. "  For  the  Lord  himself  shall  descend  with  a  shout, 
with  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with  the  trump 
of  God :  and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first :  then 
we,  which  are  alive  and  remain,  shall  be  caught  up  to- 
gether with  them  in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord  in 
the  air :  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord. 
Wherefore  comfort  one  another  with  these  words." 
And  are  they  not  words  of  comfort  ?  And  were  they 
not  proclaimed  to  be  sure  and  steadfast  for  ever  on 
this  great  and  joyful  day  ? 

Therefore,  though  we  have  not  seen,  we  will  be- 
lieve ;  we  will  rejoice  and  be  glad.      If  ye,  then,  be 


THE   POTTER    OF   CHEISt's    EESUEEECTION.  353 

riseu  with  Clirist  to  this  assurance  of  immortality,  seek 
those  things  which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  at 
the  I'ight  hand  of  God.  Set  your  affections  on  things 
above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth,  for  thmgs  on  the 
earth  have  never  given  you  unmingled  comfort  in  hfe, 
and  can  never  give  you  peace  in  death.  But  the  Gos- 
pel of  Christ  can  give  you  both.  But  while  we  exult 
in  the  hoj^e  of  a  resurrection,  let  us  remember,  in  peni- 
tence and  self  examination,  and  prayer  mingled  with 
thanksgiving,  let  us  remember  the  solemn  words  of 
Him  who  purchased  life  and  promised  immortality : 
"  The  hour  is  coming,  when  all  that  are  in  their  graves 
shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth  ;  they  that 
have  done  good,  to  the  resurrection  of  life  ;  and  they 
that  have  done  evil,  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation." 
Even  so,  come  Lord  Jesus  ;  but  ere  thou  come  to  us  in 
death  or  in  judgment,  come  in  thy  atoning  blood,  come 
in  thy  gracious  assurance  of  pardon — come  in  the 
sanctifying  influences  of  thy  blessed  Sj^irit.  Even  so, 
come  Lord  Jesus. 


23 


THE  FOLLY  AND  DANGERS  OE  DELAY. 


ECCLESIASTES   51.    4. 

"  He  that  observeth  tlie  "wind  shall  not  sow,  and  he  that  regardeth  the 
clouds  shall  not  reap." 

This  figurative  language,  like  a  great  portion  of 
tliat  whicli  we  find  in  tlie  Sacred  Scriptures,  carries  us 
out  into  the  fields,  and  would  impaii:  to  us  lessons  of 
wisdom,  while  in  imagination  we  contemplate  the 
labors  of  the  husbandman.  Its  obvious  interpretation 
is  this.  He  who,  having  an  important  work  before 
him,  is  constantly  watching  for  a  favorable  moment, 
instead  of  setting  about  it  courageously  and  at  once, 
and  postpones  all  his  beginnings  for  some  imagined 
conjunction  of  j^roj^itious  circumstances,  will  pass 
through  life  without  accomplishing  any  important  un- 
dertaking. Now  this  is  a  maxim  well  worthy  the 
serious  consideration  of  all  who  are  brought  into  con- 
tact with  the  aifau's  of  life,  and  who  are  daily  called 
upon  to  decide  and  act  in  relation  to  them.     There  are 


THE   FOLLY   AISTD   DAIS^GEKS    OF   DELAY.  355 

some  enterprises,  indeed,  wliicli  fail  througli  premature, 
indiscreet,  or  impetuous  action,  but  there  are  probably 
many  more  whicli  miscarry  by  reason  of  timidity,  in- 
decision or  procrastination.  Especially  is  this  observa- 
tion true  of  moral  enterprises,  and  more  universally 
still  may  it  be  a23plied  to  those  which  belong  to  self- 
discipline.  We  all  occasionally  form  the  design  of 
effecting  some  important  change  in  ourselves.  We 
wish  to  overcome  some  evil  habit,  to  implant  and 
strengthen  some  needed  virtue,  or  to  bring  our  whole 
system  of  feeling  and  action  into  more  entire  conform- 
ity with  the  religion  we  profess.  But  instead  of 
taking  up  the  work  at  once,  and,  in  dependence  upon  the 
Spirit  of  Grod,  pursuing  it  with  zeal  and  perseverance, 
we  are  tempted  to  wish  for  a  more  opportune  season, 
we  look  forward  to  a  period  of  greater  leisure  from 
worldly  avocations,  and  when  we  shall  obtain  better 
assistance,  and  feel  ourselves  better  disposed  to  under- 
take the  work  before  us — thus  time  passes  by,  seasons 
come  aud  go,  and  we  find  ourselves  still  only  upon  the 
shore  waiting  till  the  wind  sits  in  the  precise  quarter, 
and  the  tide  is  at  the  very  moment,  and  every  rope 
and  sail  is  nicely  adjusted,  and  not  till  all  these  circum- 
stances concur  together  will  we  launch  forth.  Or  to 
adopt  the  similitude  of  our  text,  we  have  a  field  to  till 
and  the  grain  to  sow ;  for  we  place  our  dependence 
upon  the  harvest  we  hope  to  reap ;  but  we  pass  our 
spring  season  in  idly  watching  the  winds,  and  gazing 
upon  the  clouds,  that  we  may  discover  what  they  ])ov- 
tend ;  one  day  the  wind  is  so  boisterous  that  it  will 


356  THE   rOLLY   AND    DATs^GEES    OF   DELAY. 

disperse  our  grain  unevenly,  anotlier,  there  is  a  threat- 
ening of  rain,  and  a  third,  the  storm  effectually  pre- 
vents our  labors ;  and  then  the  spring  has  passed  by, 
the  summer  heats  come  on,  our  ground  is  lying  fallow, 
and  no  harvest  have  we  to  gather  but  weeds  and 
thistles. 

Such  is  a  very  frequent  result,  and  when  we  exam- 
ine ourselves  to  discover  why  we  have  not  made  better 
progress  in  the  life  of  godliness,  and  why  so  many  good 
plans  lie  unexecuted  before  us,  and  why  so  many  good 
resolutions  have  been  broken,  we  shall  here  find  a 
ready  solution  of  the  difiiculty.  Men  in  general  are 
not  indiflferent  to  moral  improvement ;  they  do  not  set 
at  naught  the  precepts  and  requisitions  of  the  Gospel, 
and  say  we  have  no  concern  in  such  matters ;  at  least 
we  rarely  find  such  obstinate  and  hardened  offenders 
within  reach  of  the  admonitions  and  exhortations  of 
the  pulpit.  Their  very  attendance  in  the  church  of 
God  shows  that  they  pay  to  religion  the  homage  of  an 
outward  respect,  and  at  some  future  day  they  design 
to  give  it  their  serious  attention.  But  why  not  now  ? 
What  good  argument  is  there  for  delay  ?  No  good 
and  substantial  argument,  but  many  plausible  ones. 
Clouds  threaten  in  the  horizon,  and  the  wind  is 
baffling. 

Is  there,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  no  such  thing  as  a 
choice  of  opportunities  in  the  religious  life  ?  Are  we 
not  warranted  in  watching  for  propitious  seasons  and 
availing  ourselves  of  them  ?  Unquestionably  we  are 
permitted  to  watch  for  them,  and  emj^loy  them  dili- 


THE   FOLLY    AND    DANGERS    OF   DELAY.  357 

gently ;  and  not  only  permitted ;  sucli  a  course  of  con- 
duct is  incumbent  upon  us  as  our  solemn  duty.  But 
tMs  is  ver}^  different  from  waiting,  and  postponing  from 
year  to  year  and  day  to  day,  the  commencement  of  our 
plans  for  improvement.  Here  do  we  find  a  distinction 
between  tlie  course  of  conduct  wliicli  prudence  dictates 
to  us  as  men  of  this  world,  and  that  which  rehgion  de- 
mands. In  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  we  may  some- 
times delay  the  undertaking  of  any  enterprise.  Such 
may  be  the  number  and  magnitude  of  the  obstacles  in 
our  way,  that  it  would  be  foolhardiness  to  press  for- 
ward ;  for  almost  inevitable  defeat  would  be  the  con- 
sequence. It  is,  then,  the  dictate  of  duty  as  well  as 
wisdom,  to  wait  j^atiently  for  more  obvious  leadings  of 
Providence.  Although  even  then,  when  our  enterprise 
is  useful  and  honorable,  and  it  has  l^een  maturely 
weighed,  it  is  dangerous  to  defer  its  commencement 
too  long,  and  hope  to  carry  it  through  without  meet- 
inof  difficulties  at  the  outset.  But  in  relisrion  there  can 
never  be  any  reason  for  the  delay  of  an  hour  or  a  mo- 
ment. On  the  contrary,  the  argument  is  ever  strong 
for  immediate  action.  I  will  not  now  dwell  upon  the 
uncertainty  of  life,  the  inevitable  approach  of  death, 
the  greatness  of  the  work  we  have  to  accomplish,  and 
the  little  time  at  most  allotted  to  us  for  this  purpose. 
These  are  obvious  and  familiar  topics  in  this  and  every 
other  discourse  where  the  duty  of  man  is  under  in- 
quiry. I  shall  prefer  to  suggest  to  you,  however,  some 
few  other  considerations  more  strictly  arising  from  my 
text. 


358      THE  FOLLY  AND  DANGERS  OF  DELAY. 

I  take  it  for  granted,  that  we  all  acknowledge  it  to 
be  our  duty  to  live  in  strict  conformity  with  the  Gos- 
pel of  Christ,  and  we  are  convinced  that  if  we  would 
secure  our  eternal  happiness  we  must  be  his  faithful 
disciples.  I  presume,  also,  that  we  all  esteem  ourselves 
to  be  deficient  in  many  respects ;  we  feel  that  we  have 
much,  very  much,  to  do  in  the  way  of  moral  and  re- 
ligious discipline.  And  we  are  designing  most  solemn- 
ly to  set  about  these  things  at  some  favorable  time. 
It  has  not  yet  arrived.  Now,  my  brethren,  do  not  let 
us  deceive  ourselves — it  never  will  arrive.  We  have 
no  right  to  anticipate  a  time  when  there  will  be  no  ob- 
stacles to  oppose  us  in  j^erforming  the  duties  incum- 
bent upon  us  as  accountable  beings.  It  was  never  de- 
signed by  a  superintending  Providence  that  this  should 
take  place  in  our  present  state  of  probation.  Doubts, 
difficulties,  temj)tations,  are  on  every  side,  and  we  must 
go  on  our  pilgrimage  as  it  were  surrounded  by  them. 
If  they  are  not  presented  to  us  in  the  outward  circum- 
stances of  our  condition,  we  shall  be  sure  to  find  them 
within,  in  the  evil  pro23ensities  of  our  nature,  and  the 
adverse  workings  of  the  corrupt  heart.  It  is  vain, 
then,  to  delay  for  a  more  favorable  season.  And  be- 
sides, the  very  delay  renders  us  less  capable  of  advan- 
tageously taking  hold  of  that  more  favorable  season. 
There  is  nothing  stationary  in  human  aftairs,  and  least 
of  all  can  the  moral  character  rest  for  any  time  unin- 
fluenced by  good  01-  evil.  While,  therefore,  we  are 
waiting  to  begin  our  appointed  and  important  task,  till 
the  favorable  time  comes,  this  very  task  is  daily  be- 


THE   FOLLY   AND   DANGERS    OF   DELAY.  359 

coming  more  arduous.  Could  we  even  have  the  assur- 
ance that  outward  circumstances  would  become  more 
favorable,  yet  this  would  in  reality  be  no  benefit,  for 
we  should  find  ourselves  proportionably  less  able  to 
avail  ourselves  of  them.  But  it  is  weak,  and  vain,  and 
presumptuous,  to  postpone  what  we  feel  assured  we 
have  to  do  in  respect  to  our  religious  state,  in  antici- 
pation of  a  better  working  season,  for  we  have  no  good 
reason  to  hope  for  a  better.  And  then  the  present  op- 
portunity is  the  only  one  we  can  command  ;  we  have 
no  control  over  the  future. 

But  there  is  another  argument  against  delay.  Op- 
portunities which  may  appear  unfavorable  to  our  lim- 
ited sight,  will  often  prove  to  be  more  than  usually 
proj)itious.  How  often,  when  the  sky  has  portended 
storms  and  rain,  and  when  in  consequence  we  have 
suspended  some  work  or  some  excursion,  do  we  find, 
to  our  mortification,  that  the  unfavorable  appear- 
ances subside,  and  had  we  carried  out  our  intentions, 
we  should  have  met  with  more  than  ordinary  suc- 
cess. In  the  Christian  life  this  is  frequently  the  case. 
Many  temptations  and  trials  are  formidable  only  in 
appearance  ;  as  we  draw  near  they  lose  much  of  their 
threatening  aspect,  and  if  we  go  to  the  encounter  with 
courage  we  find  that  we  soon  obtain  the  mastery.  Un- 
til we  have  tried,  we  cannot  tell  what  our  own  strength 
is,  nor  can  we  ascertain  the  weakness  of  our  enemy. 
Where  duty  leads,  no  difficulties  should  deter  us 
from  following ;  for  we  may  be  assured  that  if  we 
proceed  with  decision  and  energy  we  shall  be  strong 


360  THE   FOLLY   AISTD    DANGEES    OF   DELAY. 

to   overcome,   for   our   strengtli  will  come  from  tlie 
Lord. 

But  I  need  not  dwell  longer  upon  these  general 
considerations.  In  this,  as  in  most  topics  connected 
witli  religion  and  duty,  it  is  not  so  much  our  province 
to  convince  the  reason,  as  to  move  the  will.  The  sim- 
ple deductions  of  reason  and  the  warnings  of  conscience, 
enlightened  by  Revelation,  readily  point  out  what  is 
truth  and  what  is  duty.  In  the  subject  before  us,  I 
doubt  whether  there  is  an  individual  here  present  who 
would  for  a  moment  argue  against  the  position  which 
the  text  has  suggested  to  us.  All  will  acknowledge 
that  it  is  unwise,  to  be  ever  employed  in  balancing 
probabilities,  reconnoitring  difficulties,  anticipating 
and  magnifying  dangers,  when  there  is  manifest  and 
urgent  necessity  for  immediate  action.  They  would 
say  at  once  to  the  timorous  and  weak  individual  whom 
they  should  see  in  this  undecided  position,  "  Summon 
courage ;  press  forward  ;  do  not  regard  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  before  you ;  attack  them  manfully ;  most 
of  them  will  fall  as  you  approach ;  many  of  them  are 
but  shadows  which  disappear  as  you  di^aw  nigh,  and 
the  few  real  obstacles  there  are,  you  can,  and  must, 
beat  down.  To  hesitate  is  to  be  overcome."  This 
would  be  their  feeling  in  regard  to  others. 

Now,  are  there  not  many  in  precisely  this  situa- 
tion ?  Are  there  not  amongst  you  those  who  are  real- 
ly anxious  to  sow  the  seeds  of  a  holy  life,  and  to 
reap  the  harvest  of  everlasting  happiness  ?  And  are 
you  not  kept  in  a  state  of  iuacti\ity  by  fearing  the 


THE   FOLLY    AKD   DANGERS    OF   DELAY.  361 

wind  and  gazing  upon  the  clouds  ?  To  sucli  I  would 
say,  your  only  mode  of  relief  from  tliis  embarrassing 
and  unhappy  state,  is  to  act  at  once  and  without  fur- 
ther hesitation.  Do  not  permit  yourselves  to  be  de- 
terred, or  even  delayed,  by  any  obstacles  whatsoever. 
There  are  none  which  can  excuse  your  negligence  in 
the  sight  of  your  Heavenly  Father,  l^ecause  there  are 
none  which,  by  his  assistance,  promised  to  all,  you  may 
not  overcome.  Do  you  ask  what  you  are  to  do  ?  how 
you  are  to  begin  ?  I  reply,  begin  with  prayer  for  wis- 
dom to  direct,  and  for  strength  and  courage  to  act,  and 
then  act — act  at  once,  this  very  day,  this  very  hour, 
the  moment  you  have  left  this  sacred  temple,  to  which 
you  have  come  for  instruction,  and  which  you  should 
never  leave  without  forming  wise  and  holy  resolutions. 
You  have,  most  of  you,  I  doubt  not,  plans  either  formed 
or  under  consideration  for  improving  your  moral  and 
religious  characters.  At  least,  I  trust  that  with  few 
exceptions  those  who  are  here  present  have  occasional 
thoughts  about  what  duty  requires  of  the  dicisples  of 
Christ.  But  you  each  of  you  find  some  plausible  rea- 
son for  postponing  your  exertions.  One  is  at  this  mo- 
ment peculiarly  involved  in  worldly  affairs,  and  the 
present  difficulties  must  be  gotten  through  with ;  an- 
other has  impediments  of  a  domestic  nature ;  there  is 
no  favorable  time  or  place  for  meditation  and  prayer, 
and  the  other  members  of  the  family  have  no  sympa- 
thies with  such  exercises.  Again,  some  will  look  for 
the  beginning  of  a  new  year,  or  the  next  anniversary 
of  the  day  of  their  birth ;  some  wish  for  a  little  more 


362      THE  FOLLY  AND  DANGERS  OF  DELAY. 

satisfaction  upon  certain  points,  tliey  will  wait  until 
tlieir  opinions  are  more  settled ;  at  the  same  time  they 
adopt  no  measures  for  settling  them. 

But  it  would  be  endless  to  attempt  the  enumeration 
of  all  those  excuses  by  which  persons  are  deterred  from 
promptly  and  efficiently  assuming  all  the  responsibil- 
ities of  the  Christian  life.  How  often  do  we  see  this 
unfavorable  state  as  relates  to  particular  duties  incum- 
bent upon  the  Christian.  For  example,  how  many  are 
there  who  will  acknowledge  it  to  be  their  duty  to  es- 
tablish the  practice  of  daily  prayer  in  their  families,  or 
to  approach  the  table  of  the  Lord.  They  mean  at 
some  future  time  to  perform  these  duties,  but  at  this 
moment  they  are  not  prepared.  As  to  family  prayer, 
it  would  not  be  convenient,  the  time  could  not  be 
spared,  the  family  is  not  in  a  state  to  be  restricted  by 
this  custom,  or  there  would  be  an  awkwardness  in  com- 
mencing this  exercise  after  having  gone  along  so  many 
years  without  it.  As  to  the  communion,  it  is  too 
serious  a  matter  to  assume  this  pledge  without  mature 
reflection  and  examination,  and  yet  they  will  neither 
reflect  nor  examine.  Thus  positive,  acknowledged,  im- 
portant duties  are  set  aside  through  fear  of  difficulties 
that  would  disappear  the  moment  they  were  con- 
fronted with  any  degree  of  energy. 

Let  me  exhort  you,  then,  my  brethren,  no  longer 
to  be  so  indiffisrent  to  your  religious  obligations  as  to 
set  them  aside  upon  such  weak  and  inefficient  pretexts. 
Let  it  be  your  sole  effi)rt  to  understand  what  your  duty 
is  in  the  relations  in  which  you  stand  to  your  God, 


THE   FOLLY   AND    DAISTGEES    OF   DELAY.  363 

your  neighbor,  and  yourselves.  Once  ascertained,  let 
no  obstacles  stoj)  your  j)rogress,  let  no  temptation  draw 
you  aside  from  the  right  path ;  let  no  spirit  of  procras- 
tination lull  your  conscience  to  rest  by  whispering  that 
future  opportunities  will  be  more  favorable.  Now  is 
your  accepted  time,  now  is  your  day  of  salvation. 
You  have  no  hold  upon  to-morrow,  not  even  upon  the 
next  hour.  Work  then  while  it  is  called  to-day.  The 
wise  husbandman  now  tills  his  ground  and  prepares 
his  seed,  and  does  not  intermit  his  labors  because  the 
bleak  winds  of  winter  put  forth  their  dying  strength 
to  resist  the  apj^roaches  of  spring,  and  because  the 
dark  clouds  arise  and  cover  the  heavens,  and  pour 
forth  tlieii"  rain  upon  the  earth.  He  will  not,  therefore, 
stop,  because  he  knows  that  if  he  does  not  pursue  his 
labors  now,  he  cannot  expect  to  reap  in  autumn.  Learn 
wisdom  in  spiiitual  things  from  his  example  in  tem- 
poral. Work,  therefore,  again  I  say,  while  it  is  called 
to-day,  for  the  night  of  death  cometh  when  no  man 
can  work. 


PURITY  OF  HEART,  ITS  ATTAINMENT  AND 
REWARD. 


Matthew    v.    8. 
"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 

The  religion  of  tlie  Gospel  makes  large  demands 
upon  tlie  faith  and  the  obedience  of  its  disciples.  It 
will  not  rest  satisfied  with  an  external  homage,  how- 
ever costly  or  punctually  performed.  It  must  have 
the  absolute  control  of  the  heart  as  well  as  the  obe- 
dience of  the  outer  man.  This  is  the  grand  feature 
in  practical  morality  which  elevates  it  at  a  far  distance 
above  all  the  religious  systems  which  have  ever  exer- 
cised a  sway  over  the  human  mind.  They,  for  the 
most  part,  have  consisted  in  a  routine  of  useless  ob- 
servances but  little  calculated  to  refine  or  strens^then 
the  moral  character.  Even  the  law  which  God  gave 
by  Moses,  compared  with  the  revelation  which  came 
by  Jesus  Christ,  was  a  religion  of  outward  ceremonies 
alone.     Many  of  these,  it  is  true,  were  emblematical 


PURITY    OF   HEART,  ITS   ATTAIISnWENT,  ETC.  365 

of  the  inward  purity  inculcated  by  tlie  Gospel,  and  all 
of  them  were  designed  to  j^repare  the  way  for  its  in- 
troduction. But  the  ritual  law,  as  we  know,  was  very 
early  and  very  generally  perverted  from  its  true  design ; 
and  at  last,  in  our  Saviour's  time,  the  Pharisees  con- 
tented themselves  with  paying  tithes  of  mint,  anise, 
and  cummin,  although  they  neglected  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law  ;  and  if  they  never  eat  their  bread 
with  unwashen  hands,  they  thought  this  sufficient, 
without  seeing  that  their  hearts  were  purified  from 
iniquity. 

Let  us  not  be  unjust,  however,  to  the  holy  men  of 
ancient  day.  Many  of  those  who  lived  under  the  Old 
Testament  dispensation,  well  knew  that  sacrifices  and 
washings  and  burnt  oiferings  could  not  alone  secure 
the  fiivor  of  God.  Da\dd  could  devoutly  pray,  "  Make 
me  a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spiiit 
within  me  ; "  and  Jeremiah  exhorted  the  Israelites,  "  O 
Jerusalem,  wash  thine  heart  from  wickedness,  that 
thou  mayest  be  saved."  But  now  those  lofty  views 
of  the  purity  and  perfection  of  God's  law,  which 
seemed  restricted  to  saints  and  proj^hets,  are  brought 
down  to  the  comprehension  of  the  common  mind. 
Even  the  child,  under  the  Gospel,  knows  that  it  will  be 
in  vain  to  "  come  before  the  Lord  with  thousands  of 
rams  and  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil,"  unless  we 
also  "  do  justly,  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with  our 
God."  Even  the  child  knows  that  the  j^ure  in  heart 
can  alone  hold  acceptable  communion  with  God. 

This  truth,  however,  like  many  others  that  receive 


366  PURITY    OF   HEART, 

a  full  and  universal  assent,  demands  an  occasional  illus- 
tration and  enforcement  in  order  to  secure  its  practical 
influence  upon  our  cliaracters.  I  desire,  tlierefore,  at 
tlie  present  time  to  direct  your  attention  to  what  is 
implied  in  purity  of  heart,  to  the  means  of  its  attain- 
ment, and  to  the  reward  promised  to  those  who  shall 
reach  this  enviable  degree  of  spiritual  discipline. 

I.  Those  who  are  even  but  moderately  conversant 
with  Scripture  language,  must  know  that  by  the  heart 
we  are  to  understand  the  inward  or  spiritual  part  of 
man.  With  the  Jews  it  was  supposed  that  the  heart 
was  the  material  organ  not  merely  of  the  affections, 
but  also  of  the  understanding  and  all  its  faculties. 
This  was  the  seat  of  reason,  of  memory,  of  imagination, 
as  well  as  of  love  and  hatred.  Our  text  implies,  there- 
fore, the  exercise  of  such  a  control  over  both  thouo;ht 
and  passion,  as  shall  keep  these  sources  of  conduct  pure. 
Now  purity  consists  either  in  freedom  from  defilement, 
or  freedom  from  admixture.  Water  is  pure  when  it  is 
in  its  natural  state,  devoid  of  any  thing  which  might 
destroy  its  transparency  or  injure  its  salubrious  qual- 
ities. Gold  is  pure  when  it  is  unalloyed  by  any 
baser  metal  which  might  lessen  its  value.  A  man  of  a 
pure  heart,  then,  is  one  whose  understanding  and  affec- 
tions are  not  darkened  and  rendered  unhealthful  by 
the  pollution  of  cherished  and  habitual  sins,  or  debased 
by  the  admixture  of  sensual  thoughts  and  desires.  It 
is  obvious  that  our  text  aims  at  much  more  than  the 
most  rigid  control  of  all  our  outward  actions.  Highly 
important  it  is,  without  doubt,  to  the  interests  of  re- 


ITS   ATTAmiMENT   AND    REWAED.  367 

ligion,  tliat  the  external  character  of  its  professors 
should  be  exemplary,  and  it  is  most  essential  to  the 
happiness  of  mankind  in  general  that  morality  of  de- 
portment should  be  enforced.  And  therefore  both 
religious  precepts  and  human  laws  descend  to  minute 
specifications,  and  prohibit  certain  actions  as  sins  and 
offences,  and  recommend  and  encourage  others  as  vir- 
tues. And  when  such  laws  and  precepts  are  faithfully 
observed,  the  demands  of  human  justice  are  satisfied. 
We  can  enforce  no  stricter  conformity  with  what  is 
pure  and  right,  because  we  cannot  make  motives  any 
farther  accountable  to  our  tribunals  than  as  their 
nature  is  developed  by  outward  conduct. 

We  may  often,  therefore,  approve  and  commend 
what  seems  to  be  a  virtuous  deportment,  when  it  pro- 
ceeds from  no  right  motive  in  the  individual,  and  when, 
could  the  heart  be  seen,  it  would  exhibit  itself  black 
and  hateful  to  our  sight.  But  if  the  judgment  of  man 
may  be,  and  often  must  perforce  be  thus  satisfied,  not 
so  with  the  high  and  holy  and  heart-searching  God. 
In  his  sight  the  virtuous  conduct  of  the  outer  man  is 
as  nothing,  if  the  heart  be  not  true  and  pure  ;  nay,  it 
is  worse  than  nothing,  as  involving  the  sins  of  deceit 
and  hypocrisy  in  combination  with  its  other  iniquities. 
He  then  who  refrains  from  acts  of  vice,  who  does  not 
permit  himself  to  indulge  in  any  of  those  pursuits  or 
pleasures  which  are  forbidden  by  the  Gospel,  and  who 
conforms  to  all  those  exterior  observances  which  make 
up  what  is  called  a  religious  deportment,  he  is  not  on 
this  account  a  holy  man  and  a  Christian.     He  may 


368  PURITY    OF   HEART, 

indeed  be  so  esteemed  by  the  world,  and  we  wlio  can 
penetrate  no  farther  than  to  the  outward  appearance, 
have  no  right  to  deny  him  the  name,  if  to  outward 
ap2:>earance  he  possesses  the  qualities  of  the  Christian. 
But  the  question  now  is  what  the  Gospel  demands,  and 
what  will  be  esteemed  sanctity  by  Him  who  knoweth 
the  heart  and  trieth  the  reins  of  the  children  of  men. 
In  order  to  satisfy  Him,  we  must  seek  to  free  our- 
selves not  merely  from  the  outward  act,  but  also  from 
the  inward  thought  of  sin  ;  we  must  not  only  abstain 
from  the  indulgence  of  unlawful  passions,  but  also  keej) 
our  desires  under  control ;  we  must  not  only  put  a 
bridle  on  the  tongue  and  regulate  the  eye,  but  also 
curb  and  discipline  our  secret  imaginations.  And  the 
principle  upon  which  this  rigid  rule  of  Gospel  morality 
is  sustained,  may  be  discovered  in  those  frequent  asser- 
tions of  Scripture,  that  the  heart  is  the  true  origin  of 
all  our  accountable  actions  :  this  must  be  in  every  man 
the  hidden  but  real  and  permanent  seat  either  of  virtue 
or  \T,ce.  "  A  good  man,"  says  our  Saviour,  "  out  of  the 
good  treasure  of  his  heart  bringeth  forth  good  things ; 
and  an  evil  man,  out  of  the  evil  treasure  of  his  heart 
bringeth  forth  evil  things."  And  again,  "  out  of  the 
heart  proceed  evil  thoughts,  murders,  adulteries,  forni- 
cations, thefts,  false  witnesses,  blasphemies."  How  then 
can  we  expect  any  goodness  that  shall  be  true  in  its 
nature  or  lasting  in  its  duration,  unless  it  proceed  from 
the  pure  fountain  of  a  renovated  heart  ?  The  morality 
of  that  man  who  has  no  better  foundation  for  his  good 
conduct  than  worldly  interest   or  prudence,  or   the 


ITS   ATTAINIMEISTT   AI^TD    REWAED.  369 

desire  of  worldly  reputation,  may  endure  for  a  time, 
but  there  is  no  security  for  its  continuance.  But  should 
he  go  through  life  without  contracting  any  outward 
spot  or  blemish,  or  giving  occasion  to  the  tongue  of 
reproach  after  death,  he  will  have  another  ordeal  to 
pass.  He  must  aj^pear  before  God,  and  then  the  garb 
which  deceived  the  eyes  of  men  will  be  stripj^ed  from 
him.  When  summoned  to  the  throne  of  final  judg- 
ment, the  body  shall  be  no  covering  for  the  soul ;  we 
shall  seem  to  be  what  in  truth  we  are ;  we  shall  be 
judged  indeed  according  to  what  we  have  done  in  the 
body ;  but  then  our  actions  will  be  tested  by  their 
motives,  and  not  only  will  every  work  be  brought  into 
judgment,  but  every  secret  thought. 

From  what  has  been  said,  my  brethren,  you  may 
form  some  idea  of  what  must  be  comprehended  under 
that  expression  of  my  text,  "  the  pure  in  heart."  To 
the  means  of  its  attainment  I  am  now,  in  the  second 
place,  to  direct  yom'  attention. 

II.  And  here  you  must  not  be  deluded  with  the 
thought  that  it  is  an  object  of  easy  acquisition.  We 
cannot  say  that  it  costs  no  self-denial,  no  serious  exami- 
nation, no  painful  emotion.  On  the  contrary,  we  would 
forewarn  you,  that  in  the  progress  of  the  Christian  life, 
he  who  would  cultivate  purity  of  heart  must  encounter 
much,  must  endure  much.  He  must  labor  patiently, 
assiduously,  and  j)rayerfully.  And  his  watchfulness 
and  exertions  can  never  be  intermitted,  for  the  seeds 
of  inward  corruption  remain  even  after  the  fruit  has 
been  destroyed,  and  the  leaf  and  the  stalk  trampled 
24 


370  PUEITY    OF   HEAET, 

down  by  inortiiication  and  self-denial,  and  they  will 
start  up  again  like  hateful  and  noxious  weeds  at  tlie 
least  relaxation  of  care  and  culture.  Sucli  is  the  fatal 
consequence  of  the  original  and  universal  depravity 
of  our  nature.  The  heart  is  not  naturally  pure, — it  is 
not  even  in  such  a  state  as  that  it  will  yield  indifferent- 
ly to  virtuous  or  vicious  impressions,  just  as  the  one  or 
the  other  are  presented  to  it.  Its  tendencies  are 
decidedly  towards  what  is  corrupt,  so  that  evil  in- 
structions and  examples  exert  a  much  more  immediate 
and  a  much  stronger  influence  over  it  than  those  which 
are  good. 

This  fact  is  obvious  to  the  experience  of  us  all. 
Parents,  and  those  who  are  conversant  with  the  youth- 
ful mind,  well  know  that  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  cul- 
tivate virtuous  habits  than  to  destroy  them  when  they 
have  begun  to  flourish  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
it  is  far  easier  to  encourage  wicked  propensities  than 
to  check  their  growth.  This  is  what  we  understand 
by  the  universal  corruption  and  depravity  of  the 
human  heart.  At  the  fall  it  was  bhghted,  its  pri- 
meval innocence  was  destroyed;  it  no  longer  moved 
spontaneously,  and  by  its  own  innate  impulses  to 
purity  and  truth,  but  its  tendencies  were  fatally 
changed  to  an  opposite  direction.  And  thence  en- 
sued that  wretched  state  of  the  human  heart  which 
St.  Paul  so  accurately  describes.  "For  I  know  that 
in  me,  that  is,  in  my  flesh,  dwelleth  no  good  thing : 
for  to  will  is  present  with  me ;  but  how  to  perform 
that  which  is  good  I  find  not.     For  the  good  that 


I 


ITS   ATTAINJVIENTS   AISTD   EEWARD.  371 

I  would  I  do  not,  but  the  evil  wHcli  I  would  not,  that 
I  do."  To  rescue  us  from  this  state  of  bondage  to  sin, 
our  own  efforts  without  the  co-operation  of  Divine 
Grace  must  ever  2:)rove  unavailing.  We  may  go  to  the 
trial  again  and  again  in  our  own  strength,  but  we  shall 
as  often  suffer  defeat.  It  is  not  until  we  become  strons: 
in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might,  that  we 
can  effectually  rend  asunder  and  shake  off  the  de- 
basing fetters  of  sin.  Therefore,  he  who  would  attain 
to  purity  of  heart  must  secure  to  himself  the  powerful 
aid  of  God's  Holy  Spirit.  And  for  his  comfort  and 
encouragement  he  may  know  that  this  aid  is  freely 
offered  to  him,  and  will  be  given  to  him  the  moment 
he  feels  his  need  of  it  and  devoutly  asks  for  it. 

When  the  prayer  is  sent  up  to  the  throne  of  grace 
with  an  earnest  sincerity,  "Make  me  a  clean  heart, 
O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me,"  then  the 
work  of  purification  has  fairly  commenced,  and  as  long 
as  this  devotional  frame  of  mind  is  sustained  it  will  be 
carried  on  successfully ;  for  he  who  hath  promised  to 
give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask,  he  who  hath 
said,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,"  he  will  help  us 
against  the  infirmities  of  our  natm'e,  and  he  will  en- 
courage us  to  resist  outward  temptations.  But  when 
prayer  is  neglected,  or  suspended,  then  Christian  yigi- 
lance  slumbers,  the  Spirit  of  God  is  withdrawn,  the 
evil  propensities  of  our  nature  gain  strength,  the  seduc- 
tions of  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  Devil,  solicit  with 
a  louder  and  more  imperious  voice,  the  gentle  admoni- 


372  PTJEITT   OF   HEAET, 

tions  of  conscience  are  overpowered,  and  tlie  work  of 
purification  ceases. 

I  give  to  prayer  tliis  prominence  in  connection  witli 
the  snbject  now  under  consideration,  because  it  is  the 
chief,  and  indeed  the  absolutely  essential  means  to  be 
used  in  attaining  purity  of  heart.  Other  means  there 
are,  obviously  important,  such  as  prudence  in  the  choice 
of  associates,  and  in  the  selection  of  books,  those  influ- 
ential companions  of  our  solitary  hours  ;  self-restraint 
in  partaking  of  those  pleasures  which  are  designed  to 
be  our  relaxation  from  the  sober  duties  of  life ;  watch- 
fulness over  the  movements  of  the  passions,  and  over 
the  tendency  of  the  imagination  to  dangerous  wander- 
ings ;  meditation  upon  God  and  his  attributes,  uj^on  the 
soul,  and  its  immortal  nature  and  high  destination ; 
upon  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  holy  commandments  and 
spotless  example ;  and  also  frequent  and  deep-searching 
self-examination  into  the  motives  which  govern  our 
daily  conduct.  But  all  these  exercises,  essential  as  they 
are  to  holiness  of  life,  can  be  rendered  effectual  to  this 
purpose  only  by  their  combination  with  prayer.  In- 
deed, we  may  say,  that  they  are  never  put  thorough- 
ly into  j)i'3,ctice  but  under  the  stimulus  of  devout 
prayer,  and  moreover,  prayer  habitually  and  fervently 
engaged  in  will  bring  into  use  every  one  of  these  mear^ 
of  moral  and  religious  discipline.  And  in  addition  to 
this,  it  will  lead  to  a  regular  participation  in  all  those 
ordinances  of  religion  for  the  sustaining  of  which  Christ 
established  his  Church  on  earth,  and  which  he  appointed 
as  the  channel  for  communicating  to  the  faithful,  all 


ITS    ATTAESTMET^T   AND   EEWAED.  373 

those  gifts  and  gi-aces  of  the  Spirit  which  help  our  in- 
firmities, and  promote  the  life  of  godliness  within  ns. 

But  oliserve,  when  we  ascribe  these  blessed  effects 
to  the  use  of  prayer,  it  is  not  the  prayer  of  coldness 
and  formality,  the  prayer  of  constrained  obligation, 
or  of  servile  fear,  or  the  j)rayer  that  comes  forth  from 
automaton  lips  while  the  heart  is  far  away.  Such  de- 
votional exercises  may  be  continued  for  years,  with  the 
regularity  of  the  mechanism  that  marks  the  return  of 
the  morning  and  evening  hours,  and  yet  the  heart  re- 
tain all  its  worldliness  and  corruption.  The  prayer  we 
recommend  is  fervent,  persevering,  that  which  is  sug- 
gested by  a  sense  of  dependence  and  filial  love,  and 
which  comes  gloA;vdng  with  warmth  from  the  innermost 
seat  of  the  soul's  affections.  Such  prayer  alone  can  we 
count  upon  to  j^roduce  the  holy  exercises  we  have 
mentioned  ^dth  their  attendant  happy  influences,  such 
prayer  alone  can  we  venture  to  describe  as  heart  puri- 
fying prayei",  such  prayer  alone  will  enable  mortal  man 
to  realize  his  Saviour's  promise,  and  to  see  his  God. 

III.  But  here  it  may  perhaps  be  demanded,  how 
is  this  possible  ? — how  can  mortal  man  look  on  God 
and  live  ?  The  Scriptures  frequently  declare  that  God 
is  in^dsible.  He  is  represented  as  that  awful  Being 
who  dwelleth  in  light  which  no  man  can  approach 
unto,  whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see.  It  is  obvi- 
ous, therefore,  that  the  expression  of  our  text  must  be 
regarded  as  figurative.  God  cannot  be  seen  in  the 
sense  in  which  we  look  upon  outward  objects  ;  for,  al- 
though he  exists  in  every  part  of  the  universe,  although 


374  PURITY   OF   HEAET, 

he  is  at  tliis  inomeut  here  present  amongst  us,  yet  his 
presence  is  not  manifested,  and  he  exists  nowhere  un- 
der a  form  which  can  be  embraced  by  the  mortal  eye. 
But  surely,  you  cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  meaning,  or 
insensible  to  the  force  of  that  language  which  says,  be- 
hold God  in  his  works  here  on  earth ;  see  him  in  the 
sun  which  shines  above  you,  and  in  the  starry  firma- 
ment which  he  hath  spread  over  your  heads ;  see  him 
in  the  earth  beneath  you,  and  the  beauties  and  boun- 
ties with  which  it  is  covered ;  and  again  see  him  in  the 
mysterious  workings  of  his  Providence  and  the  sub- 
lime discoveries  of  his  revelation.  In  this  apphcation 
of  the  23hrase  the  pure  in  heart  see  their  God.  All 
these  are  manifestations  of  the  power,  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  the  Almighty ;  they  are  demonstrations  of 
his  being  and  perfections ;  they  constitute  a  spiritual 
similitude  which  is  the  object  of  a  spiritual  sight,  and 
this  is  a  faculty  blotted  out,  or  at  least  perverted  and 
darkened  in  the  heart  of  the  impure  man.  He  who 
has  been  renewed  and  sanctified  by  Divine  Grace,  and 
daily  holds  high  and  holy  communion  with  heaven  in 
prayer,  gains  this  new  power  of  perception  with  which 
to  look  upon  the  works  of  his  Heavenly  Father ;  he 
contemplates  them  with  a  sublime  delight,  and  when 
he  meditates  upon  Creation,  Providence  and  Grace,  his 
soul  is  enlarged,  it  rises  upward,  the  mortal  body  still 
presses  the  earth,  but  the  inner  man  is  transported 
into  the  Divine  presence,  and  with  that  spiritual  eye 
which  ever  wakes  and  watches  in  the  heart  of  purity, 
he  looks  uj)on  his  Maker  and  his  God.     This  is  his  re- 


ITS   ATTAINMENT    AND   EEWAED.  375 

ward,  this  his  blessedness  while  on  the  earth.  But 
when  this  earthly  scene  has  passed  away,  when  his  dis- 
embodied spirit  is  conveyed  to  the  eternal  world,  oh, 
who  can  describe  how  he  then  is  permitted  to  behold 
his  God  ?  It  is  beyond  the  power  of  the  human  mind 
to  conceive  of  this.  Imagination  may  strive  with  an 
eager  desire  to  learn  something  of  this  blessedness ; 
the  eye  of  faith  may  gaze  intently  upon  those  little 
openings  which  revelation  has  made  in  the  dark  cloud 
which  shrouds  heaven  from  our  view,  but  in  vain.  We 
see  enough  only  to  convince  us  of  the  truth  of  Scrip- 
ture, that  the  glories  of  heaven  are  unspeakable,  that 
the  hap]3iness  prepared  for  the  righteous  far  surpasses 
man's  comprehension,  and  we  must  rest  contented  with 
the  assurance  that  in  the  presence  of  God  is  fulness  of 
joy,  and  at  his  right  hand  are  pleasures  for  evermore. 
These  pleasures  and  this  joy,  may  they  ever  excite 
our  devout  longings  and  stimulate  our  unwearied  ex- 
ertions that  we  may  attain  them.  Oh,  how  superioi*, 
how  immeasurably  suj^erior  to  the  short-lived  ]3leasures 
of  flesh  and  sense,  to  the  joy  which  is  bright  to  the 
eye  and  sweet  to  the  taste  of  anticipation  only,  but 
which  fades  and  palls  at  once  upon  possession.  The 
joy  of  heaven  is  holy,  and  the  pleasures  of  heaven  are 
pure,  and  therefore  they  are  soul  satisfying  and  en- 
during. A  foretaste  of  them  is  granted  to  us  here  on 
earth,  but  the  fulness  of  participation  is  realized  only 
at  God's  right  hand,  and  in  his  immediate  presence. 
To  this  do  you  asj^ire  ?  and  do  you  ask  "  who  shall 
ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  and  who  shall  stand 


376  PURITY   OF   HEART,  ITS   ATTAINMENT,  ETC. 

up  in  his  lioly  place  ? "  God's  voice  returns  for  answer, 
"  He  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart."  "  And 
there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  defileth, 
neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination,  or  maketh  a 
lie,  but  they  which  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of 
life."  And  they  shall  see  his  face ;  and  have  a  right  to 
the  tree  of  life,  and  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the 
city.  "  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there,  and  they 
need  no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun  ;  for  the  Lord 
God  giveth  them  light,  and  they  shall  reign  forever 
and  ever." 


THE  NATURE  AND  ESSENTIALS  OE  SPIRITUAL 
WORSHIP. 


JOHN     IV.     24. 


'*  God  is  a  Spirit :  and  they  that  Avorship  him,  mnst  worship  him  in 
spirit  and  in  truth." 

The  duty  of  prayer  grows  out  of  our  relation  to 
the  Supreme  Being.  He  is  Father,  we  are  cliildren  ; 
He  is  Creator,  we  are  creatures ;  he  is  Almighty,  we 
of  ourselves  are  powerless.  Dependent  upon  him  for 
life  and  all  its  blessings,  we  owe  him  the  constant 
homage  of  grateful  hearts  ;  and  seeing  that  we  are 
transgressors  of  his  most  righteous  laws,  we  should 
humble  ourselves  before  him  in  confession,  and  implore 
the  merciful  forgiveness  of  our  sins  through  the  means 
which  he  has  appointed  in  Christ  Jesus.  All  these 
duties  of  confession,  of  prayer,  and  of  praise,  as  they 
are  ]3erformed  to  God,  must  be  performed  with  refer- 
ence to  his  character  as  revealed  to  us  in  the  Volume 
of  Inspiration.     Is  he  a  Being  of  irresistible  power  and 


378  THE   NATUEE   AND   ESSENTIALS 

tremendous  majesty  ?  we  must  worship  him  witli  fear 
and  trembling.  Is  lie  a  God  of  unbounded  goodness 
and  never-failing  mercy  ?  our  fear  must  be  tempered 
with  holy  confidence  and  love.  Is  God  the  God  of 
purity  ?  pure  then  should  be  the  hearts  and  affections 
of  his  worshippers. 

In  a  very  few,  but  most  emphatic  words,  our  blessed 
Sa^dour  has  declared  to  us  the  nature  and  requisitions 
of  that  worship  which  alone  can  be  acceptable  to  the 
Supreme  Being.  On  every  account  they  demand  our 
most  attentive  and  serious  consideration,  and  my 
present  design,  in  devout  reliance  upon  the  Divine 
blessing,  is  to  aid  you  in  comprehending  them  and 
feeling  their  practical  force.  "  God  is  a  Spirit ;  and 
they  that  worship  him,  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and 
in  truth." 

How  simple,  how  sublime,  how  full  and  worthy  a 
description  of  that  great  Being  who  created  and  up- 
holds the  universe,  and  how  honorable  to  man,  as  im- 
plying the  possession  of  faculties  that  23rove  him  to  be 
of  kindred  with  that  God,  who,  when  he  formed  him 
of  clay,  yet  breathed  into  him  a  spirit  instinct  with  his 
own  immaterial  and  immortal  nature.  "  God  is  a 
Spirit."  A  proposition  this,  which  commands  the 
immediate  assent  of  every  understandmg,  in  the  extent 
to  which  that  understanding  is  capable  of  comprehend- 
ing the  terms  in  which  it  is  stated.  A  just  idea  of  God 
must  embrace  every  perfection  of  which  an  intellectual 
and  moral  nature  is  susceptible.  These  perfections  are 
attributes,  and  the  attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being 


OF   SPIRITUAL   WORSHIP.  379 

can  be  conceived  of  only  in  essential  connection  witli 
spirituality.  The  unity,  omnipresence,  omnipotence 
and  omniscience  of  God  arise  from  and  depend  upon 
his  spiritual  nature.  We  can  conceive  only  of  two 
modes  of  existence,  which  we  call  matter  and  spirit. 
Now  matter  cannot  have  unity,  for  it  consists  of  parts, 
and  is  not  one  body,  but  numberless  bodies  united ; 
nor  can  it  have  an  intelligent  omnipresence,  for  then 
there  could  be  only  one  conscious  being  in  existence ; 
nor  can  it  have  omnipotence,  for  it  is  passive,  and  being 
at  rest,  cannot  put  itself  into  motion ;  nor  can  it  have 
omniscience,  for  it  cannot  think ;  nor,  again,  for  this 
reason,  can  it  possess  any  moral  qualities  whatsoever. 

As  God,  then,  is  a  Spirit,  the  question  arises,  can 
we  obtain  a  distinct  idea  of  what  spirit  is  ?  We  must 
reply,  that,  with  our  present  limited  faculties,  this  is 
im23ossible.  When  we  aj^ply  our  minds  to  this  defini- 
tion Avhich  our  Saviour  has  given  us,  we  can  only  ap- 
proximate to  a  comprehension  of  the  Divine  nature,  by 
excluding  from  our  thoughts  every  idea  inconsistent 
with  spiritual  existence.  As  spirit  is  opposed  to  mat- 
ter, we  can  neither  see  nor  feel  it.  God,  then,  cannot 
become  present  to  our  bodily  senses.  He  exists  in 
every  part  of  the  universe.  He  is  continually  around 
us ;  wherever  we  go,  there  also  must  he  be ;  yet  we 
see  him  not ;  no  form  or  semblance  in  which  he  is  em- 
bodied imprints  itself  uj)on  our  sight.  The  Almighty 
is  invisible.  God  supports  us  and  all  created  things  in 
being ;  his  energy  is  continually  exerted  to  preserve 
order  and  harmony  in  the  universe ;  yet  we  feel  him 


380  THE   NATUEE   AKD   ESSENTIALS 

not,  for  lie  is  a  Spirit,  and  it  is  only  our  spii'its  that 
can  experience  his  direct  influences ;  our  material  bodies 
cannot  bring  us  into  contact  with  him.  When  we 
think  of  God,  we  must  exclude  from  our  minds  all 
ideas  of  substance,  form  or  organs,  for  he  has  never  as- 
sumed a  bodily  shape,  nor  can  he  be  subjected  to  the 
influence  of  passions  or  emotions. 

It  is  true,  the  Supreme  Being  is  frequently  spoken 
of  in  the  Scriptures  as  existing  under  such  a  form  as 
ours,  and  as  being  moved  by  passions  and  affections 
like  those  which  exercise  such  a  control  over  our  ac- 
tions. The  arm  of  the  Lord  is  said  to  be  stretched  out 
to  destroy  his  enemies,  his  eyes  are  described  as  looking 
upon  all,  his  mouth  is  opened  to  speak  unto  men,  and 
the  heavens  are  said  to  be  the  work  of  his  hands.  The 
Lord,  too,  is  represented  as  being  angry  with  sinners ; 
and  when  they  have  turned  from  their  wickedness,  he 
is  said  to  repent  him  of  the  evil  he  had  intended. 
These,  and  many  like  expressions,  are  used  in  every 
part  of  the  Sacred  Volume  in  relation  to  the  Supreme 
Being.  But  this  language,  you  will  observe,  is  adopted 
in  necessary  accommodation  to  our  limited  faculties. 
All  forms  of  speech  are  designed  to  communicate 
thoughts  and  ideas  from  mind  to  mind ;  and  as  the 
human  mind  is  indebted  for  its  earliest  impressions  to 
the  effect  produced  by  outward  objects  upon  the  senses, 
we  find  that  many  ideas  of  a  purely  spiritual  nature 
are  represented  by  the  metaphorical  use  of  words  that 
were  first  applied  to  material  forms  of  existence.  Thus, 
in  the  original  language,  the  same  word  which  in  our 


OF   SPIRITUAL   WOESniP.  381 

text  is  translated  spirit,  literally  signifies  breath,  or  air 
in  motion.  Sucli  was  the  primary  meaning  of  a  word 
wliicli  was  afterwards  used  to  express  tlie  idea  of  an 
existence  which,  in  its  qualities,  more  nearly  resembled 
these  than  any  other  objects  with  which  men  were  ac- 
quainted. The  breath  of  man  proceeds  from  his  mouth ; 
we  cannot  tell  whence  it  originates ;  but  we  know  it 
to  be  the  evidence  that  the  soul  inhabits  these  bodies 
of  clay  ;  without  it,  life  departs,  and  corruption  ensues. 
The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  canst  not 
tell  whence  it  cometh  or  whither  it  goeth  ;  thou  canst 
not  see  it — thou  knowest  of  its  existence  only  by  its 
efl:ects.  It  is  now  the  summer  breeze  that  fans  thee 
with  gentle  and  refreshing  airs,  and  now  the  terrific 
gale  that  lashes  the  ocean  into  fury,  and  marks  its 
course  upon  the  trembling  earth  in  ruin  and  desolation. 
This  word,  then,  although  so  expressive,  can  be  applied 
to  the  Deity  only  by  accommodation.  It  is  the  best 
and  fullest  Avhich  language  furnishes  to  represent  an 
idea,  to  the  entire  embracing  of  which  all  language  is, 
and  ever  must  be,  inadequate.  We  must  be  satisfied, 
then,  with  approaching  as  near  as  our  finite  minds  and 
our  feeble  forms  of  speech  will  enable  us,  to  a  compre- 
hension of  the  invisible  God,  and  wait  patiently  for 
further  knowledge,  till  our  souls,  disencumbered  of 
the  mortal  bodies  which  now  press  them  down,  shall 
ascend  into  the  purer  regions  of  the  spiritual  world. 

But  although  we  cannot,  by  searching,  find  out  the 
Almighty  to  perfection,  we  can,  nevertheless,  learn 
enough  concerning  his  nature  to  prove  to  us  what  kind 


382  THE   NATUEE   AND   ESSENTIALS 

of  worship  will  be  acceptable  to  him.  And  this  is  the 
chief  thing  we  should  be  anxious  to  discover  at  pres- 
ent ;  for  the  great  object  of  our  existence  here  is  to  pre- 
pare ourselves  for  that  heavenly  world,  where  we  shall 
know  even  as  we  are  known.  "  God  is  a  Spirit."  We 
cannot  fully  understand  what  Spirit  is — but  we  know 
that  it  represents  a  Being,  infinitely  wise,  infinitely 
powerful,  infinitely  pure,  infinitely  holy,  unbiassed  by 
prejudice,  unmoved  by  passion,  unassailable  by  corrup- 
tion. What  then  is  the  worship  which  such  a  Being 
must  demand  from  his  intelligent  creatures  ? 

It  was  to  give  information  upon  this  point  that  our 
blessed  Saviour  spoke  the  words  now  under  considera- 
tion. He  had  been  talking  with  a  woman  of  Samaria, 
and  so  impressed  was  she  with  the  knowledge  he  mani- 
fested of  her  character  and  previous  course  of  life,  that 
she  exclaimed,  "  Sir,  I  perceive  that  thou  art  a  prophet." 
As  a  prophet  would  of  course  be  acquainted  with  all 
questions  connected  with  the  public  worship  of  God, 
she  asked  his  opinion  upon  a  difierence  which  had  long 
existed  with  respect  to  this  subject  between  the  Jews 
and  Samaritans.  "  Our  fathers,"  said  she,  "  worshipped 
in  this  mountain  ;  and  ye  say  that  in  Jerusalem  is  the 
place  where  men  ought  to  worship."  Jerusalem  was 
the  place  appointed  by  God  for  the  erection  of  the 
holy  temple,  and  for  the  celebration  of  the  great  festi- 
vals, and  the  offering  up  the  daily  and  yearly  sacri- 
fices. So  it  was  considered  by  all  the  descendants  of 
Abraham,  until  the  ten  tribes  of  Israel  revolted  from 
the  house  of  David.     By  them  a  temjole  was  set  up. 


OF   SPIEITUAL   WOESHIP.  383 

and  a  worship  appointed  in  opposition  to  the  temple 
and  worship  at  Jerusalem.  The  religious  schism  thus 
produced  had  lasted  through  many  generations,  and 
raged  with  great  violence  in  our  Saviour's  time ;  the 
house  of  Judah  contending,  that  as  Jerusalem  was  the 
place  expressly  designated  by  God  for  sacrifices,  there 
alone  could  they  be  legally  and  acceptably  offered  up  ; 
the  Samaritans,  on  the  other  hand,  affirming  that  their 
mountain,  Gerizim,  was  the  true  place  of  worship.  It 
was  in  reference  to  this  dispute  that  our  Lord's  opinion 
was  asked  by  the  woman  of  Samaria.  He  gave  her  to 
understand  that  the  Jews  were  in  the  right ;  but  at 
the  same  time  declared  that  the  hour  was  approaching, 
when  the  ceremonial  worship  of  God  should  be  re- 
stricted neither  to  Jerusalem  nor  to  the  mountain  in 
Samaria;  when  a  spiritual  worship,  which  might  be 
offered  up  at  any  time  and  in  any  place,  should  super- 
sede the  whole  system  of  sacrifices  that  had  been  ex- 
clusively confined  to  the  Holy  temple.  "  Jesus  saith 
unto  her,  Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh,  when 
ye  shall  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem, 
worship  the  Father.  Ye  worship,  ye  know  not  what ; 
we  know  what  we  worship,  for  salvation  is  of  the  Jews. 
But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  Is,  when  the  true  wor- 
shippers shall  worship  the  Father  in  sj^ii'it  and  in  truth ; 
For  the  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  him.  God  is 
a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him,  must  worship  him 
in  spiiit  and  in  truth."  In  these  words  was  predicted 
the  then  impending  overthrow  of  the  burdensome 
ritual  of  the  Old  Testament.     That  was  to  be  abol- 


384  THE   JSTATUEE   AND   ESSENTIALS 

ished,  because  tlie  spiritual  service,  of  whicli  the  law 
was  only  tlie  symbol  and  tlie  forerunner,  was  to  be 
established.  An  end,  too,  was  to  be  put  to  the  sacri- 
fices of  the  temple,  because  that  great  sacrifice  to  which 
all  the  others  had  reference,  and  in  anticipation  of 
which  they  had  been  appointed,  was  soon  to  be  offered 
up.  The  spiritual  rehgion  of  Christ  was  to  spring  into 
life  out  of  the  expiring  forms  and  ceremonies  of  the  reli- 
gion of  Moses. 

We  are  taught,  then,  by  our  Saviour,  that  the  wor- 
ship which  God  now  requires  from  his  intelligent  crea- 
tures is  a  spiritual  worship,  in  contradistinction  to  one 
that  is  local  and  external.  He  delights  not  in  the 
burnt  offerings  of  rams,  and  the  fat  of  fed  beasts,  but 
in  the  sacrifice  of  a  broken  and  contrite  heart.  Exter- 
nal purification  is  no  preparation  for  his  service — it 
must  be  the  internal  cleansing  of  the  heart  and  the 
affections.  But  in  the  j)resent  age  of  the  world,  we 
are  in  no  danger  of  mistaking  that  kind  of  ceremonial 
worship  that  was  required  by  the  law  of  Moses  for  the 
service  which  God  demands  of  us.  We  need  not, 
therefore,  pursue  our  subject  any  farther  in  this  direc- 
tion. There  is,  however,  an  external  worship  other 
than  that  which  consists  in  burnt  offerings  and  sacri- 
fices by  which  we,  my  brethren,  may  be  in  danger  of 
oftending  that  God  who  must  be  worshipped  as  a 
Sj^irit.  And  that  is  the  worship  of  the  lips  unaccom- 
panied by  the  devotion  of  the  heart ;  the  prostration  of 
the  body,  when  the  soul  bends  not  before  the  presence 
of  Jehovah.     He  to  whom  the  burnt  offering  of  rams 


OF   SPIRITUAL   WORSHIP.  385 

and  tlie  fat  of  fed  l3easts  is  no  longer  grateful,  will  not 
be  more  pleased  witli  solemn  sounds,  if  they  proceed 
from  one  whose  heart  and  affections  are  absent  from 
the  service  in  which  his  body  is  engaged. 

Spiritual  worship  is  that  which  calls  into  exercise 
every  power  of  the  mind  and  every  affection  of  the 
heart.  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is 
within  me  bless  his  holy  Name,"  says  the  pious  Psalm- 
ist. He  summons  all  that  is  within  him  to  praise  the 
Lord,  knowing  that  outward  homage  alone  would  be 
useless.  But  such  homage  is  not  merely  useless,  it 
draws  down  a  deeper  condemnation ;  it  is  impious. 
Will  man  appear  before  the  awful  Being  who  made 
him,  with  the  bold  and  confident  demeanor  with  which 
he  stands  in  the  presence  of  his  fellow-man  ?  Will  he 
address  that  God  who  knoweth  the  heart  and  trieth 
the  reins  of  the  children  of  men,  with  the  form  alone  of 
devotion,  and  mock  him  with  a  solemn  sound  upon  a 
thouofhtless  tons^ue  ?  Will  he  kneel  in  the  Divine 
presence,  and  confess  with  his  mouth  that  he  has 
sinned  against  the  holy  laws  of  God,  and  still  retain  a 
heart  unsoftened  by  repentance  ?  Will  he  j^ray  to  the 
Giver  of  every  good  and  j^erfect  gift  for  his  continued 
assistance  and  protection,  and  yet  live  in  bold  reliance 
upon  his  own  frail  strength  ?  WDl  he  offer  up  praise 
and  thanksgiving  from  lips  unhallowed  by  devotion — 
from  a  heart  unwarmed  by  holy  love  ?  Let  him  know 
that  all  such  services  God  rejects  and  abhors ;  for  he  is 
a  Spirit,  and  will  be  satisfied  only  with  a  worship  that  is 
in  strict  accordance  with  his  spiritual  nature.  But  here 
25 


386  THE   NATUEE   AND   ESSEI^TIALS 

again,  we  are  iii  no  danger  of  mistaking  tlie  great  prin- 
ciple tliat  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  true  worship. 
Much  and  constantly  as  we  require  to  have  our  attention 
directed  to  the  practical  observance  of  this  principle,  it 
would  be  a  useless  consumption  of  time  to  defend  it,  or 
even  to  explain  it  at  any  length.  The  real  question, 
and  the  one  which  often  does  come  into  dispute,  is 
this :  what  mode  of  divine  service  is  best  adapted  to 
promote  that  spirituality  which  all  Christians  acknow- 
ledge to  be  essential  to  the  true  worshij)  of  God  ? 

Some  would  totally  exclude  outward  rites  and  pre- 
composed  forms  of  prayer.  Others  again  multiply 
ceremonies  to  such  an  extent,  and  render  them  so  im- 
posing, that  it  is  difficult  to  follow  out  their  spiritual 
meaning.  Now  we  believe  that  spiritual  worship  is 
promoted  by  avoiding  both  extremes.  As  to  external 
rites,  we  cannot  consent  to  banish  them  from  the  ser- 
\'ice  of  God.  The  weakness  and  imperfection  of  our 
nature  demand  that  the  internal  adoration  of  the  soul 
be  aided  from  without.  Indeed  the  sympathy  between 
the  hmer  and  the  outer  man  is  so  strong,  that  the  senti- 
ments of  the  heart  and  the  external  deportment  have 
a  reciprocal  influence,  an  influence,  too,  which  is  always 
powerful,  sometimes  irresistible.  Do  you  see  a  man 
elevated  with  devotion,  humbled  with  penitence,  op- 
pressed with  grief,  or  warmed  with  gratitude,  you  can 
hardly  fail  to  see  these  emotions  painted  in  the  cheer- 
ful or  dejected  countenance,  and  expressed  by  the  erect 
and  animated,  or  the  bent  and  suppliant  attitude.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  external  characteristics  of  humility, 


I 


or   SPIKITUAL   WORSHIP.  387 

of  grief  or  pious  elevation  of  soul,  awaken  correspond- 
ing sympathies  in  every  human  breast. 

On  this  j^rinciple  it  is  that  external  rites  are  not 
to  be  excluded  from  that  spiritual  service  which  God, 
who  is  a  Spirit,  requires.  Our  Saviour,  while  he  took 
up  his  abode  with  men  and  condescended  to  assume 
their  nature,  gave  the  sanction  of  his  example  to  the 
union  of  external  with  internal  devotion.  He  lifted  up 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  kneeled  down,  yea,  fell  on  his 
face  in  supplication.  And  in  ordaining  sacraments  to 
be  an  outward  and  \asible  sign  of  an  inward  and 
spiiitual  grace,  he  clearly  established  the  principle  for 
which  we  contend.  It  cannot  then  be  inconsistent 
with  a  sjoiritual  service  that  it  should  be  conducted 
with  external  rites.  Of  course  a  spiritual  service  never 
terminates  in  external  rites.  Man  may  look  at  the 
outward  appearance,  but  God  looketh  at  the  heart. 
Of  what  value  is  the  body  unoccupied  by  the  soul  ? 
It  is  worthless.  Of  equal  value  is  external  worship, 
unaccompanied  by  the  inward  sentiment  of  praise  and 
adoration.  The  simj)le  sigh  of  the  contrite  sinner  is 
of  infinitely  higher  value  in  the  estimate  of  Heaven, 
than  the  most  sublime  ceremonies  and  the  best  ordered 
form  of  devotion,  if  a  pious  heart  be  not  theii*  animating 
principle. 

It  is  sometimes  objected  to  us  that  the  system  we 
practise,  and  to  which  we  are  so  fondly  attached,  is  not 
well  calculated  for  a  spiritual  service  ;  that  we  are  too 
much  addicted  to  ceremonies ;  that  the  frequent  repe- 
tition of  the  same  words  soon  degenerates  with  most 


388  THE   NATURE   AND   ESSE^-TIALS 

people  into  lip  service,  and  that  precomposed  prayer 
is  not  so  well  adapted  to  excite  devotional  sentiments 
as  that  which  is  extemporaneous.     Now  this  objection 
has  been  often  met,  and  most  fully  refuted ;  and  we 
believe  that  the  constant  experience  of  very  many  of 
you  will  supply  a  conclusive  answer  to  it.     We  do 
not  then  pass  it  by  through  any  apprehension  of  en- 
countering it,  but  because  we  believe  that  controver- 
sial subjects   of  this   nature   are   most   satisfactorily 
examined  in   the  deliberation   and   the   ample   time 
afforded  in  private  reading.     Let  us  take  the  objec- 
tion, however,  in  good  part,  and  make  it  profitable  as 
an  occasion  for  warning  and  admonition.     We  believe 
that  in  our  consecrated  temples,  and  our  few  but  im- 
pressive rites  and  ceremonies,  we  find  powerful  aids  to 
the  excitement  of  devotion.     Especially  do  we  believe 
that  our  venerated  Litui'gy  is,  in  all  respects,  well 
adapted  to  the  use  of  a  sj^iritual  worshipper.     In  its 
doctrines  scriptural,  in  its  language  chastened  and  sim- 
ple, but  fervent.     Much  of  it  has  been  handed  down 
to  us  from  the  earliest  ages  of  the  Church,  and  is  the 
composition  of  the  holiest  men  that  have  ever  lived. 
And  our  whole  service,  as  it  now  stands,  has  often 
dwelt  upon  the  lips  and  warmed  the  hearts  of  saints 
who  are  now  chanting  the  praises  of  God  in  the  lan- 
guage of  heaven. 

With  such  means  to  assist  us  in  offering  a  sacrifice 
to  God,  who  is  a  S|)irit,  what  will  be  our  just  condem- 
nation if  our  worship  shall  degenerate  into  mere  for- 
mality, and  we  come  under  the  reproof  which  our 


OF   SPIRITUAL   WOESIIIP.  389 

Saviour  applied  to  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees, — this 
people  draweth  nigh  unto  me  with  their  mouths,  and 
honoreth  me  with  their  lips^  but  their  heart  is  far  from 
me  ?  Let  not  this  be  our  condemnation,  but  let  us  show 
by  our  animated  and  heartfelt  union  in  the  liturgical 
services  of  our  Church,  that  we  are  indeed  the  children 
of  that  God  who  is  to  be  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in 
truth.  When  we  come  to  the  house  of  God,  let  us 
come  whole  and  entire,  and  prepared  to  offer  unto  him 
ourselves,  our  souls  and  bodies,  to  be  a  reasonable, 
holy,  and  lively  sacrifice  unto  him ;  and  then  let  us 
worship  him,  not  with  our  lips  and  knees  merely,  but 
as  we  should  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  with  all  oui' 
soul,  with  all  our  mind,  and  with  all  our  strength. 


OUR  ACCOUNTABILITY  FOR  OUR  THOUGHTS. 


Acts  viii.  21,  22. 


"  Thy  heart  is  not  right  in  the  sight  of  God.  Repent,  therefore,  of 
this  thy  wickedness ;  and  pray  God,  if  perhaps  the  thought  of  thine 
heart  may  be  forgiven  thee." 

When"  the  Gospel  was  first  preaclied  in  Samaria  by 
Philip  the  deacon,  amongst  other  converts  to  the  new 
faith  was  one  Simon  a  sorcerer,  who,  by  his  personal 
address  and  ingenious  deceptions,  had  for  a  long  time 
exercised  a  great  influence  over  the  people.  He,  it 
seems,  was  struck  with  admiration  at  the  miracles  which 
the  servant  of  God  performed,  to  establish  the  truth 
of  his  doctrines,  and  the  authority  of  his  mission  ;  and 
professing  himself  to  be  converted,  he  asked  and  re- 
ceived the  sacrament  of  ba]3tism.  But  his  faith,  as  we 
shall  have  reason  to  notice,  was  only  speculative,  and 
his  object  in  professing  Christianity  was  mercenary,  for 
when  the  Apostles  Peter  and  John  came  down  to  Sa- 
maria, to  confirm  the  converts  whom  Philip  had  Ijap- 


OUR   ACCOUNTABILITY   FOE    OUR   THOUGHTS.         391 

tized,  Simon,  observing  the  T\^onderful  effects  wliicli  in 
those  days  followed  the  laying  on  of  the  hands  of  the 
Apostles,  coveted  this  power  for  himself,  and  he  offered 
money  to  the  Apostles  to  induce  them  to  impart  it  to 
him.  He  obviously  regarded  the  whole  system  of  the 
Gospel  as  one  l)y  which  power,  influence  and  wealth 
were  to  be  obtained ;  and  for  these  selfish  ends  he 
became  a  disciple,  and  aimed  at  obtaining,  by  the  gift 
of  money,  the  authority  to  work  miracles  which  the 
Apostles  possessed.  His  lieart  was  unchanged,  though 
his  religious  profession  had  been  altered.  He  was 
still,  as  St.  Peter  declared  him  to  be,  "  in  the  gall  of 
bitterness  and  in  the  bond  of  iniquity."  The  Apostle 
at  once  penetrated  into  his  character,  and  while  scorn- 
ing his  impious  bribe,  plainly  unfolded  to  him  the 
depra\dty  and  danger  of  his  spiritual  condition.  "  Thy 
heart  is  not  right,"  said  he,  "  in  the  sight  of  God ; 
repent,  therefore,  of  this  thy  wickedness,  and  pray 
God  if  perhaps  the  thought  of  thine  heart  may  be  for- 
ofiven  thee." 

These  words  rightly  understood  convey  a  most  im- 
portant meaning,  and  suggest  an  interesting  and  pro- 
fitable subject  of  discourse.  Simon  had  been  guilty 
of  no  overt  act  of  sin  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  had  listened 
with  respectful  attention  to  the  preaching  of  Philip ; 
he  had  been  baptized  into  the  faith,  and  was  willing 
to  impart  of  his  wealth  to  obtain  higher  degrees  of 
illumination  in  the  Christian  doctrine.  But  all  tliis 
time  his  thoughts  had  a  wrong  direction.  He  was 
secretly  planning  to  make  merchandise  of  his  new  re- 


392      OUR  Accomn^ABiLiTY  roE  our  thoughts. 

ligion,  and  tliouglit  it  a  good  substitute  for  his  old 
system  of  sorcery,  the  influence  of  wliicli  was  fast 
wearing  away.  Altliougli  he  assumed  outwardly  the 
responsibilities  of  the  Gospel  faith,  yet  he  was  utterly 
ignorant  of  its  true  spirit, — his  heart  was  still  in  bond- 
age to  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness.  The  Apostle 
broke  in  upon  his  state  of  delusion  with  a  doctrine 
neiD  to  him,  and  declared  to  him,  in  solemn  and  express 
terms,  that  he  was  responsible  not  merely  for  his  ac- 
tions^ but  also  for  his  intentions^  and  therefore  he  was 
exhorted  to  repent  of  the  wickedness  which  was,  as  it 
were,  in  embryo  ;  and  to  pray  God  that  the  thoughts 
of  his  heart  might  be  forgiven. 

Here  then,  my  brethren,  is  presented  to  us  a  mo- 
mentous truth,  one,  we  have  reason  to  fear,  but  too 
little  regarded, — that  man  will  be  held  accountable  to 
his  Maker  not  merely  for  his  actions  (this  proposition 
we  readily  assent  to)  but  also  for  his  thoughts.  To 
illustrate  and  enforce  this  doctrine,  and  to  bring  it  to 
a  practical  bearing  upon  your  lives  and  characters,  will 
now  be  my  object ;  and  may  that  God  to  whom  all 
hearts  are  open,  all  desires  known,  and  from  whom  no 
secrets  are  hid,  cleanse  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts,  that 
his  word  may  be  spoken  with  sincerity  and  plainness, 
and  be  heard  with  unprejudiced  attention,  so  that  by 
the  inspiration  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  we  may  all  be  led 
perfectly  to  love  him,  and  worthily  to  magnify  his 
holy  Name ! 

I.  The  question  which  first  presents  itself  for  our 
consideration  is  this :  are  we  indeed  accountable  for 


OUR   ACCOUNTABILITY   FOE    OUE   THOUGHTS.        393 

our  thonghts,  and  if  so,  to  what  extent  ?  That  "vve  are 
accountable  is  manifest  from  various  declarations  of 
the  Sacred  Volume.  "  God  shall  bring  every  work 
into  judgment  with  every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be 
good  or  whether  it  be  evil."  And  again,  "  God  shall 
judge  the  secrets  of  men  by  Jesus  Christ."  And  our 
blessed  Sa\'iour  has  expressly  asserted  that  the  purpose 
of  sin  is,  in  the  sight  of  heaven,  of  equal  guilt  Avith 
its  accomj)lishment.  Nor  is  this  a  severe  or  unreason- 
able determination  of  the  Suj^reme  in  regard  to  the 
moral  conduct  of  his  intelligent  creatures.  There  are 
some  persons  indeed  who  will  demur  to  the  justice  of 
this  decision,  and  who  will  say,  what  harm  can  my 
thouglits  do,  if  I  restrain  them  within  my  own  bosom  ? 
and  besides,  although  my  actknis  may  be  within  my 
own  control,  yet  not  so  my  thouglits^  they  arise  inde- 
pendently of  my  will ;  and  good  ones  cannot  be  called 
up,  nor  evil  ones  banished  at  my  simple  desire.  Now  to 
such  objections  we  reply,  that  inward  sentiments  have 
a  vast  mfluence  over  outward  deportment,  and  there- 
fore thoughts  not  expressed  or  acted  out,  can  be  pro- 
ductive of  much  harm  to  a  moral  being ;  and,  more- 
over, we  have  the  power,  to  a  very  great  extent,  of 
restraining  our  thoughts  and  giving  them  a  particular 
dii'ection.  Were  not  this  the  case,  we  could  not  be 
accountable  for  them,  nor  would  this  discipline  of  the 
inner  man  be  regarded  as  so  important  to  the  formation 
of  a  religious  character. 

If  we  look  at  the  rehgion  of  the  Gospel,  we  shall 
find   that   its   principal   attention  is  directed  to  the 


394        OUR   ACCOUNTABILITY   FOR    OUR   THOUGHTS. 

sources  of  liumau  actions  ratlier  tlian  to  tlie  actions 
themselves ;  for  tlie  great  Searcher  of  our  hearts  knows 
that  if  the  fountain  be  pure,  the  waters  which  flow 
from  it  cannot  be  corrupt,  whereas  if  you  poison  the 
fountain,  you  cannot  expect  to  draw  from  it  a  salu- 
brious draught.  Hence  it  is  that  so  many  directions 
are  given  in  the  JSfew  Testament  in  accordance  with 
that  maxim  of  the  wise  man  in  the  Old :  "  Keep  thy 
heart  with  all  diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of 
life."  Guard,  with  the  utmost  vigilance,  the  thoughts 
and  affections  of  the  mind,  because  from  them  the  ac- 
tions and  determinations  of  the  conduct  take  their 
origin.  Our  blessed  Saviour  makes  constant  reference 
to  this  principle,  and  in  all  his  teaching  seems  almost 
to  disregard  outward  things  in  his  anxiety,  that  the 
heart  should  be  renewed  and  purified.  In  our  inter- 
course with  the  world  we  find  a  different  standard  of 
conduct  erected,  and  are  taught  that  exterior  propriety 
is  to  be  the  great  object  of  attention.  Even  the  high- 
est tribunals  of  the  law  can  take  no  cos^nizance  of  the 
thoughts,  provided  they  find  no  expression  in  overt 
acts.  And  the  reason  is  obvious ;  man  judgeth  the 
outward  appearance,  and  concerning  this  only  can  he 
form  an  unerring  ojDinion.  But  God  judgeth  the  in- 
tents and  desires  of  the  heart,  and  therefore  it  is  as 
just  that  we  should  be  accountable  to  Hwi  for  our 
thoughts,  as  to  man  for  our  actions. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  we  can  control  the  one, 
but  not  the  other.  We  do  not  deny  that  a  man  pos- 
sesses greater  power  over  his  deportment,  than  over 


OUR   ACCOUNTABILITY   FOR   OUE   THOUGHTS.         395 

the  operations  of  his  mind ;  but  still  he  is  master  of 
the  latter  to  a  sufficient  extent  to  establish  the  point 
of  accountability.  We  cannot  always  direct  the  first 
movements  of  the  mind ;  it  is  sometimes  impelled 
in  a  manner  unaccountable  to  ourselves,  and  is  swayed 
to  and  fro,  as  it  were,  by  the  influences  of  an  unseen 
hand.  The  power  of  association  in  the  ideas  of  the 
mind  is  also  wonderful ;  and  we  cannot  always  trace 
its  connections,  nor  can  we  regulate  them  in  every  re- 
spect as  we  could  desire.  Then,  again,  such  is  the 
effect  of  the  passions,  that  if  for  a  moment  they  are 
unrestrained,  they  may  break  loose,  and  for  a  time, 
defy  erery  effort  to  control  them;  and  then  the 
thoughts  are  at  their  mercy.  But  these  are  the  infir- 
mities of  our  nature ;  and  if  we  are  watchful  against 
them,  and  faithfully  endeavor  to  correct  their  evil  ten- 
dencies, God  will  not  be  extreme  to  mark  what  is  done 
amiss.  He  knows  w^hereof  we  are  made,  he  remem- 
bers that  we  are  but  dust.  While  making  every  just 
allowance,  however,  for  human  infirmity,  we  must  not 
flatter  ourselves  into  a  false  security  upon  this  point. 
If  we  examine  the  operations  of  our  minds,  we  shall 
certainly  discover  that  we  can,  for  the  most  part,  give 
to  our  thoughts  what  direction  we  j)lease ;  and  al- 
though sometimes  unbidden  ideas  may  force  an  en- 
trance like  unwelcome  guests,  yet  the  reception  they 
meet  with  dej^ends  upon  ourselves.  Upon  this  princi- 
ple we  contend  for  our  accountability.  Let  it  be 
granted  that  the  thought  may  arise  indej)endently  of 
the  will ;  if  it  be  an  evil  one,  we  shall  not  be  con- 


396         OUR   ACCOUNTABILITY   FOR    OUR   THOUGHTS. 

demned  for  tliis  invasion  of  our  purity ;  but  tlien  we 
can  approve  or  disapprove  of  it ;  we  can  cherisli  or 
reject  it ;  we  can  assent  to  it,  or  resist  it.  It  is  possi- 
ble that  wicked  imaginations  may  be  suggested  by 
circumstances  over  which  we  have  no  control,  or  by 
evil  men,  or  e\al  spirits.  But  neither  unhappy  circum- 
stances, nor  abandoned  men,  nor  fallen  spirits,  can  force 
our  assent  ^  and  for  this  alone  will  God  hold  us  to  be 
responsible.  Upon  the  whole,  then,  we  must  acknow- 
ledge that  reason  concurs  with  Scripture  in  making  us 
accountable  for  our  thoughts,  as  well  as  our  actions ; 
and,  in  declaring  that  vain  and  sinful  imaginations 
are  not  less  odious  to  the  God  of  purity  than  deeds  of 
iniquity,  and  will  not  less  surely  call  down  uj)on  us  his 
awful  displeasure.  This  result  is  one  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  us,  and  one  that  we  should  well  and 
seriously  consider.  At  the  same  time  we  should  anx- 
iously inquire,  as  to  what  discipline  we  may  adopt  for 
the  better  regulation  of  our  thoughts. 

II.  We  must  endeavor,  then,  as  a  matter  of  prime 
importance,  to  obtain  a  realizing  sense  of  the  nature  of 
those  two  great  attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being,  his 
omniscience  and  his  omnipresence.  He  knows  every 
thought  and  intent  of  the  heart;  he  is  about  our  path 
and  about  our  bed,  and  spieth  out  all  our  ways.  Thau 
this  truth  there  is  none  more  effectual  to  aid  us  in  the 
interior  government  of  our  minds.  Could  we  maintain 
an  habitual  sense  of  God's  presence  and  inspection,  it 
would  be  not  less  difficult  for  us  to  tliinlc  sin  than  to 
act  it  in  the  open  sight  of  day.     But  unhappily  we  for- 


OTJE  ACCOTIN'TABILITT   FOE   OUR  THOUGHTS.        397 

get  our  Maker.  He  presents  to  us  no  material  sem- 
blance, and  therefore  we  treat  him  as  thougli  he  ex- 
isted not.  We  hide  ourselves  from  material  eyes,  and 
think  we  are  not  seen ;  wo  will  not  whisper  our 
thoughts,  lest  the  ears  of  our  fellow-men  should  hear 
them.  Impious  and  ineffectual  precaution  !  "  He  that 
planted  the  eye,  shall  he  not  see  ?  he  that  formed  the 
ear,  shall  he  not  hear  V  "  O  Lord,  thou  hast  searched 
me  and  known  me.  Thou  knowest  my  down-sitting  and 
mine  uprising ;  thou  understandest  my  thought  afar  off. 
Thou  compassest  my  path,  and  my  lying  down,  and 
art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways.  Whither  shall  I  go 
from  thy  Spirit  ?  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  pre- 
sence ? "  Whither  ?  O  man,  thou  canst  not  escape 
from  his  Spirit ;  the  wings  of  the  morning  cannot  bear 
thee  from  his  presence.  "  Heaven  hides  nothing  from 
his  view,  nor  the  deep  tract  of  hell ; "  and,  therefore, 
O  man,  make  no  more  vain  exertions,  live  no  longer  in 
blind  delusion.  But  rather  cherish  the  conviction  that 
God  is  ever  present  with  thee ;  voluntarily  make  him 
the  confident  of  thy  thoughts,  the  sacred  depositary  of 
all  thy  wishes  and  desires,  so  will  thy  affections  be 
purified,  thy  thoughts  be  elevated,  and  thy  whole  sys- 
tem of  moral  action  be  healthful,  and  its  tendencies  be 
heavenward. 

Again ;  next  to  living  under  an  habitual  sense  of 
God's  presence,  as  a  great  security  against  the  contami- 
nation of  evil  thoughts,  we  should  exercise  a  severe  and 
conscientious  scrutiny  as  regards  our  pursuits  in  life, 
and  the  companions  with  whom  we  associate,  and  the 


398        OUE   ACCOUlfTABILITY   FOE    OUR   THOUGHTS. 

amusements  in  wLicli  we  indulge.  All  tliese  have  an 
important  influence  not  only  in  tlie  formation  of  tlie 
moral  character,  but  also  in  its  stability.  To  a  very 
great  extent  all  tliese  are  within  our  own  control,  and 
when  we  have  arrived  at  a  sense  of  accountal^ility,  we 
shall  be  accountable  for  them.  If  we  find  thai  in  any 
of  these  respects  our  position  is  unfavorable  to  moral  pu- 
rity, we  are  criminal  if  we  retain  it,  be  the  consequences 
of  abandoning  it  what  they  may.  Precise  directions  in 
regard  to  our  occupations,  our  amusements  and  our  social 
intercourse  cannot  be  given.  There  are  those,  indeed, 
who  would  restrain  us  within  narrow  bounds,  and  who 
are  liberal  in  the  indulgence  of  bitter  and  censorious 
denunciations  against  many  of  the  pursuits  and  many 
of  the  relaxations  of  hfe.  Now  this  course  of  conduct 
is  not  consonant  either  with  reason,  or  with  the  exam- 
ple of  our  blessed  Saviour,  or  with  the  precepts  of  the 
Sacred  Volume.  These  combine  in  leading  our  atten- 
tion to  first  principles.  Men  are  not  constituted  alike 
as  to  the  structure  of  their  minds,  and  the  same  system  of 
discipline  cannot  be  applicable  to  all.  But  we  need  not 
any  specific  dii'ections.  We  are  well  assured  what  the 
great  object  to  be  attained  is — ^purity  of  heart  as  well 
as  innocency  of  life,  thoughts  which  can  bear  the  inspec- 
tion of  our  Maker,  as  well  as  actions  which  our  fellow- 
beings  must  approve.  Now  if  any  pursuit,  amusement, 
or  companion,  no  matter  what  their  estimation  in  the 
world  may  be,  exert  an  evil  influence  upon  the  interior 
state  of  our  moral  and  religious  aftections,  they  must 
be  discarded.     I  care  not  for  any  general  argument 


OUE  ACCOUNTABILITY  FOE  OUR  THOUGHTS.    399 

concerning  their  innocency  and  propriety.  The  ques- 
tion is  an  individual  one  ;  if  you  are  corrupted,  the  thing 
that  corrupts  cannot  be  harmless  to  you.  The  flowers 
of  the  field,  to  the  sight  are  beautiful,  and  fragrant  to 
the  smell,  and  the  bee  extracts  from  them  a  luscious 
food ;  but  the  wasp  finds  his  venom  there,  and  the  spi- 
der weaves  there  his  noxious  web.  Be  not  deceived 
with  outward  appearances,  for  God  looketh  at  the 
heart.  And  remember  the  words  of  the  Apostle :  "  To 
the  pure  all  things  are  pure ; "  but  unto  those  that  are 
defiled  and  unbelieving  is  nothing  pure ;  but  even  their 
mind  and  conscience  is  defiled. 

And  lastly,  there  is  no  greater  security  for  a  purity 
of  thought  than  the  exercise  of  frequent  and  habitual 
prayer.  Prayer  ardent,  oj^ens  heaven  and  lets  down  a 
stream  of  glory  on  the  consecrated  hour  of  man  in 
close  communion  with  his  God.  And  with  the  radi- 
ance of  celestial  glory,  the  dews  of  Divine  grace  also 
descend,  pure  as  the  morning  drops  upon  the  top  of  Her- 
mon,  they  wash  away  every  earthly  stain,  and  virtuous 
effort  springs  up  more  beautiful  and  green  beneath  the 
refreshing  moisture.  Uusj^eakable  are  the  blessings 
attendant  upon  habitual  devotion.  And  without  it, 
vain  will  be  every  effort  to  refine  the  mind  or  purify 
the  heart.  Our  corrupted  nature,  ever  prone  to  evil, 
drags  us  down  to  sensual  and  earthly  things ;  and  of 
ourselves  we  Jiave  not  power  to  resist  this  tendency. 
To  the  Spirit  of  God  alone  belongs  this  j^ower,  which 
is  like  that  of  a  second  creation.  And  therefore,  in 
humble  supplication,  the  Christian  must  present  him- 


400        OUR   ACCOmfTABILITT    FOR   OUR   THOUGHTS. 

self  before  the  throne  of  grace,  and  say,  "  create  in  me 
a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
me."  To  this  supplication  God  will  ever  lend  a  favora- 
ble ear,  for  our  blessed  Saviour  assures  us  that  sooner, 
much  sooner  than  an  earthly  parent  will  give  bread  to 
his  famishing  child,  our  heavenly  Father  will  give  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him. 

Let  us  draw  near,  then,  with  full  assurance  of  faith. 
The  very  effort  to  pray  and  meditate  upon  the  being 
and  perfections  of  our  heavenly  Father,  disenthrals  us 
from  vain  desires  and  wicked  imaginations,  and  the 
more  frequent  and  fervent  our  devotional  exercises, 
the  more  pure  and  heavenly  will  be  our  thoughts. 
But  still,  we  can  never  expect  here  to  arrive  at  that 
state  of  perfection  when  the  admonition  of  our  text 
will  be  needless :  "  Pray  God  if  perhaps  the  thouglit  of 
thine  heart  may  be  forgiven  thee."  Alas,  no !  this 
state  of  high  and  holy  exemption  is  reserved  as  part 
of  the  reward  of  the  heavenly  inheritance.  Still,  there 
is  glorious  satisfaction  and  encouragement  in  ascending 
the  spiritual  Zion  in  the  exercises  of  prayer.  The  tem- 
ple of  the  living  God  is  above  us,  and  its  songs  of  joy 
and  triumph  almost  reach  our  ears ;  and  as  we  advance 
in  our  journey,  though  rugged  be  the  path,  the  emis- 
saries of  Satan,  evil  thoughts,  leave  us  one  by  one,  and 
holy  and  angelic  companions  come  down  to  meet  us 
and  cheer  us  on  our  way,  the  air  we  breathe  is  purer 
and  more  animating,  the  sights  we  behold  are  nobler 
and  more  extensive,  and  we  are  animated  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  progress — progress  upward.     Proceed  we 


OUE   ACCOITNTABILITY   FOR    OUR   THOUGHTS.        401 

then,  beloved  brethren,  in  the  strength  of  the  Sj^irit 
of  God,  with  renewed  vigor,  and  may  his  blessing  be 
upon  ns,  sanctifying  our  efforts,  con&ming  our  good 
resolutions,  and  at  last  crowning  our  labors,  and  accept- 
ing us  through  the  merits  and  iatercession  of  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Mediator  and  Redeemer. 
26 


THE  PRUITS  or  THE  LORD'S  CHASTENING. 


Hebrews  xii.  11. 


"  Now,  no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  he  joyous,  but  griev- 
ous ;  nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteous- 
ness unto  them  which  are  exercised  thereby." 

If  any  consideration  has  a  tendency  to  afford  us 
comfort  and  support  under  the  afflictions  of  life,  it  must 
be  that  presented  to  us  by  the  Apostle  in  that  part  of 
his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  from  which  my  text  is 
taken.  He  is  writing  to  those  who  were  exposed  to 
severe  trials  and  persecutions,  and  his  exhortation  to 
patience  and  constancy  is  founded  upon  this  important 
truth :  that  adversity,  when  it  falls  upon  the  believer, 
is  a  father's  chastisement  of  his  beloved  child.  So  far, 
then,  from  desponding,  as  if  God  had  forsaken  us,  and 
so  far  from  being  hardened  under  the  rod,  as  though 
it  were  in  the  hand  of  a  cruel  being,  we  must  not  de- 
spise the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  we  are 
rebuked  of  him ;  for  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chas- 
teneth  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth. 


THE   FEUITS    OF    THE   LOEd's   CHASTENHSTG.  403 

This  indeed  is  a  doctrine  of  precious  consolation  to  liim 
who  puts  his  trust  in  God.  It  gives  a  new  appearance 
to  the  adverse  circumstances  of  life,  and  furnishes  us 
with  a  powerful  aid  to  endure  them. 

The  best  comfort  that  philosophy  could  give  to  the 
afflicted,  was  found  in  this  maxim :  that  if  afflictions 
were  severe,  they  were  short ;  if  long,  they  were  light. 
That  is,  if  our  sorrows  pressed  very  heavily  upon  us, 
they  would  shorten  life ;  if  long  continued,  we  were 
by  habit  enabled  the  better  to  endure  them.  Wretched 
consolation,  calculated  to  produce  only  a  stoical  in- 
dijfference  to  the  changes  of  our  condition.  This  indeed 
seemed  to  be  the  highest  object  of  a  certain  human 
philosophy ;  its  lessons  were  directed  to  blunting  our 
sensibilities,  and  to  strengthening  our  power  of  en- 
during sorrow  and  misfortune  ;  and  it  esteemed  that 
the  perfection  of  character  which  could  bear  pain 
without  shrinking,  and  receive  pleasure  without  seem- 
ing to  enjoy  it ;  which  could  keep  the  soul  equally 
unmoved,  whether  prosperity  smiled,  or  adversity 
frowned  ;  which  could  receive  afflictions  without  grief, 
and  blessing  without  any  added  cheerfulness. 

But  this,  as  it  is  a  character  inconsistent  with  the 
nature  of  man,  and  subversive  of  the  best  affections  of 
the  heart,  so  is  it  one  unknown  to  the  Gospel.  There 
it  is  expected  of  man  that  he  will  sometimes  weep  and 
sometimes  rejoice  ;  that  like  David,  he  will  now  strike 
the  chords  of  praise  and  thanksgi\dng,  and  again  tune 
his  harp  to  penitence  and  lamentation.  The  Gospel 
does  not  teach  us  to  distort  our  natural  vision,  and  to 


404         THE   FRiriTS    or   the   LOEd's    CHASTE]SrrNG. 

look  upon  pain  as  no  evil,  and  pleasure  as  no  cause  of 
happiness.  It  acknowledges  witli  the  Apostle  in  my 
text,  that  "  no  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  [or 
can  seem]  to  l^e  joyous,  but  grievous."  Chastisement 
is  intended  to  give  us  pain,  and  sorrow  is  ordained  to 
afflict  our  souls  ;  and  he  who  labors  to  be  unmoved 
under  such  circumstances,  is  contending  with  the  order 
of  God's  Providence. 

While,  however,  we  are  thus  made  to  expect  afflic- 
tions and  adversity,  their  design,  a  design  full  of  mercy 
and  benevolence,  is  explained  to  us,  and  we  are  taught 
how  to  bear  them.  These  two  important  lessons  we 
may  gather  from  the  text.  In  the  first  j)lace,  chasten- 
ing yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness ;  and, 
secondly,  it  yieldeth  them  to  those  who  are  exercised 
thereby.  To  these  two  propositions  we  now  request 
your  attention. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  chastening  yieldeth  the  peacea- 
ble fruits  of  righteousness.  By  the  term  chastening, 
we  may  understand  every  j^art  of  that  moral  discipHne 
by  which  the  heart  of  man  is  made  sorrowful.  It  in- 
cludes disappointments,  adversity,  pains  of  body,  the 
loss  of  friends, — ^in  short,  every  thing  which  can  be 
made  the  cause  of  unhappiness  to  a  human  being.  The 
question  may  arise,  why  were  all  these  things  per- 
mitted by  a  Supreme  Being,  among  whose  attributes 
are  found  goodness  and  mercy  ?  w^hy  could  not  the 
moral  government  of  the  world  proceed,  and  man  be 
suffered  to  live  unmolested  by  evils,  and  unvexed  by 
sorrow.     Had  this  been  the  good  pleasure  of  the  Al- 


THE   FEUITS    OF   THE   LOEd's    CHASTENESTG.         405 

miglity,  lie  could,  without  doubt,  have  framed  a  world, 
and  placed  in  it  a  race  of  beings  who  were  free  from 
sin,  and,  of  course,  ignorant  of  evil.  But  this  is  a  ques- 
tion with  which  we  can  have  no  concern ;  we  must 
take  the  world  and  man  as  we  find  them;  the  one 
sometimes  enlivened  and  warmed  by  a  glorious  sun, 
and  bringing  forth  wheat,  and  the  vine,  and  the  fig- 
tree,  and  sometimes  darkened  by  clouds  and  tempests, 
and  deformed  by  deserts  and  rocks ;  and  the  other  a 
being  of  an  immortal  soul  and  perishing  body,  capable 
of  good,  yet  ever  prone  to  ill. 

The  Gos]3el,  we  must  remember,  did  not  introd  uce 
moral  evil,  nor  render  man  liable  to  suffering ;  but  has 
assigned  as  their  cause  the  very  creature  who  would 
murmur  at  the  consequences  of  his  own  misconduct. 
God  made  man  upright,  and  he  has  sought  out  many 
inventions.  Evil,  then,  and  afilictions,  we  find  in  the 
world,  and  we  must  infer  that  they  belong  essentially 
to  the  present  system  of  things.  Our  duty  and  our 
interest  it  is  to  discover  what  good  may  be  educed 
from  them.  And  here  we  have  abundant  reason  to 
admu'e  and  adore  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  our 
Maker.  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  those 
who  love  God.  No  event  occurs,  however  afflictive  it 
may  seem  to  the  sufferer,  but  some  design  of  benevo- 
lence is  promoted  by  it.  The  sentiment  is  finely  ex- 
pressed by  our  text.  "  No  chastening  for  the  present 
seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous  ;  nevertheless, 
afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  right- 
eousness." 


406  THE   FEUITS    OF   THE    LOED  S   CHASTENING. 

By  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness,  we  may 
understand  all  the  \drtues  of  the  Christian  life.  In 
this  phrase  are  included  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  temperance,  patience,  charity, — in  short,  every 
good  work.  Now,  to  advance  these  dispositions,  to 
strengthen  the  work  of  grace  in  our  hearts,  is  the  ob- 
ject of  our  heavenly  Father  in  all  his  chastisements. 
It  requii'es  but  a  slight  acquaintance  with  human  char- 
acter, and  a  moderate  experience  in  the  affairs  of  life 
to  know  the  truth  of  the  ancient  maxim  of  philosoj)hy, 
that  adversity  is  the  school  of  virtue.  A  character 
that  can  sustain  uninjured  a  long  and  uninterrupted 
course  of  prosperous  circumstances,  must  have  arrived 
very  nearly  at  the  mark  of  human  perfection.  When 
our  plans  of  life,  one  after  another,  succeed  according 
to  our  Welshes,  there  is  danger  of  our  becoming  forget- 
ful of  the  Lord  our  Maker,  and  of  our  secretly  exult- 
ing in  the  pride  of  our  hearts — "  my  power,  and  the 
might  of  my  hand,  hath  gotten  me  this  wealth  ; "  when 
the  current  of  life  flows  through  our  veins  in  a  health- 
ful stream,  we  are  apt  to  become  insensible  to  the 
value  of  the  very  blessing  we  enjoy ;  w^hen  our  tears 
are  never  called  forth  for  our  own  sorrows,  it  is  hard 
for  us  to  remember  and  to  pity  the  woes  of  others. 

Such  is  the  fallen  nature  of  man,  that  the  very 
evils  which  sin  has  produced,  are  necessary  to  its  own 
correction.  A  retrospect  of  his  past  life  will  convince 
every  serious  and  thinking  man  of  the  truth  of  our 
doctrine.  He  will  remember  how  devoted  he  was  to 
the  world  in  the  time  of  his  prosperity,  how  regard- 


THE   FEUITS    OF   THE    LOED's    CHASTElSm^G.         407 

less  of  his  God  and  the  duties  of  religion ;  and  often- 
times, how  insensible  to  the  suffering  condition  of  his 
fellow-creatures.  In  the  season  of  adversity,  on  the 
contrary,  he  will  remember  that  his  hard  temper  was 
subdued,  his  attachment  to  the  world  was  lessened,  he 
became  more  sensible  of  his  dependence  upon  his 
Maker,  and  he  felt  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  decla- 
ration, that  by  the  sadness  of  the  countenance  the 
heart  is  made  better.  It  is  true,  that  during  the  season 
of  his  trial,  he  might  not  be  sensible  of  the  good  work 
which  was  going  forward  in  his  soul.  The  pang  of 
grief,  or  the  sudden  reverse  of  cii-cumstances,  might 
bear  so  heavily  upon  him,  that  every  faculty  of  the 
mind,  and  every  feeling  of  the  heart  were  absorbed, 
and  there  was  for  a  time  no  power  of  recollecting  the 
source  whence  affliction  came,  or  of  turning  it  to  spir- 
itual improvement.  But,  with  the  pious  man,  this 
dark  hour  soon  passes  away,  and  he  realizes  that  afflic- 
tion Cometh  not  from  the  dust,  neither  doth  sorrow 
spring  fi'om  the  ground. 

We  must  remember,  however,  that  adversity  and 
sorrow  are  not  converted  into  blessings  by  all  men. 
The  thoughtless  and  irreligious  taste  the  bitterness  of 
the  cup,  and  never  reflect  that  health  is  the  reward  of 
receiving  it  submissively  from  the  hand  of  God,  and 
drinking  it  with  patience.  Thus  are  we  led  to  our 
second  proposition,  that  chastening  yieldeth  the  peacea- 
ble fruits  of  righteousness  to  those  who  are  exercised 
thereby. 

II.   Chastisement  does   not  produce    a    beneficial 


■408  THE   FEUITS    OF   THE    LOED's    CHASTEKLNG. 

result  in  every  description  of  character.  Tliere  are 
those  who  become  hardened  by  it.  The  fire  which 
gives  its  impenetrable  temper  to  the  steel,  will  melt 
the  more  precious  ore,  and  purify  it  from  its  dross. 
We  must  be  exercised  by  afflictions,  i.  e.^  discij)lined  by 
them,  or  our  characters  cannot  be  improved.  Now,  to 
be  exercised  by  affliction,  supposes,  in  the  first  place, 
that  we  receive  it  with  submission  as  from  the  hand 
of  a  merciful  God.  We  must  remember  who  it  is  that 
holds  the  rod  of  chastisement ;  and  at  the  very  time 
of  our  sufiering,  we  must  acknowledge  that  God  doth 
not  wilhngly  afflict  or  grieve  the  children  of  men. 
This  is  the  first  and  most  essential  step  towards  a  spir- 
itual improvement  of  the  ills  of  life.  What  benefit 
can  he  derive  from  them  who  never  reflects  upon  theii* 
origin  ;  or  if  he  does  acknowledge  the  power  of  God, 
refuses  to  believe  that  it  is  exerted  in  mercy  to  the 
sufferer.  The  heart  of  this  man  cannot  be  made  bet- 
ter. It  is  filled  with  repinings.  He  dwells  only  upon 
the  cruelty  of  his  fate ;  no  rejDentance  for  his  past 
sins  is  produced ;  no  prayers  are  offered  to  God  to 
lighten  the  burden  of  his  griefs,  and  to  give  him 
strength  to  bear  them.  He  either  throws  away  his 
life  in  desj)air,  or  hardens  his  resolution  to  endure  with 
a  kind  of  determination,  which  amounts  almost  to  a 
defiance  of  the  Supreme.  He,  on  the  contrary,  who  is 
exercised  by  the  chastening  of  God,  however  severely 
he  may  be  called  to  suffer,  will  at  once  turn  to  the 
source  whence  his  sufferings  proceed.  He  is  sensible 
of  the  depravity  of  his  heart ;  he  acknowledges  his 


numerous  transgressions  against  liis  Maker ;  lie  feels 
that  liis  chastisement  bears  no  proportion  to  the  great- 
ness of  his  sins ;  and  believing  that  his  trials,  of  what- 
ever nature  they  may  be,  are  mercifully  ordained  as  a 
moral  discipline  ;  he  bows  with  submission  to  kiss  the 
rod,  and  the  pains  it  inflicts  excites  in  his  mind  humili- 
ty, resignation,  and  the  spirit  of  prayer. 

In  the  second  j^lace,  he  who  is  exercised  by  afflic- 
tion, is  weaned  from  an  inordinate  attachment  to  the 
world.  This,  no  doubt,  is  one  great  reason  why  sorrow 
and  suffering  are  permitted  to  make  their  inroads  upon 
our  happiness.  In  the  present  state  of  human  exist- 
ence, imperfect  and  unsatisfying  as  it  is,  we  find  that 
it  requii'es  a  constant  and  severe  discipline  to  keep  us 
from  being  exclusively  occupied  with  it.  What  then 
would  be  the  effect  upon  frail  and  erring  man,  were 
the  path  before  him  for  ever  smooth,  and  the  days  as 
they  shone  upon  his  head,  for  ever  bright  ?  How  de- 
votedly attached  would  he  become  to  the  world  ;  how 
absorbed  in  the  things  of  time  and  sense  ?  If  in  a  life 
in  which  he  is  subjected  to  misfortunes,  disease,  the 
loss  of  friends,  he  is  still  a  worldling  ;  what  would  he 
become  were  such  evils  unknown  ?  In  appointing 
these  evils,  it  was  the  design  of  God  that  we  should 
profit  by  them  ;  and  it  is  obvious  that  our  j^rofiting  is 
to  be  made  manifest  in  their  producing  upon  our  char- 
acter the  effects  intended. 

One  of  these  effects  is  an  indifference  to  the  world. 
We  need  not  despise,  but  we  must  not  overvalue  the 
enjoyments  vouchsafed  to  us.     We  are  not  forbidden 


410         THE   FEUITS    OF   THE   LOEd's    CHASTEOTNG. 

to  partake  clieerfuUy  of  tlie  comforts  of  life,  to  relish 
the  society  of  friends,  and  to  receive  our  temperate 
portion  of  the  gratifications  which  the  world  contains. 
But  then  it  must  be  remembered,  that  in  these  things 
especially  our  moderation  must  be  made  known  unto 
all  men  ;  and  he  in  whom  this  apostolical  maxim  is  not 
illustrated,  has  certainly  never  been  disciplined  by  his 
chastisements.  Nor  again  has  he  been  suitably  exer- 
cised whose  afllictions  and  disappointments  have  made 
him  gloomy,  discontented,  unsocial.  These  dispositions 
are  very  far  from  religious,  and  it  must  be  contrary  to 
the  design  of  Providence  that  his  chastisements  should 
produce  them.  Adversity  is  intended  to  make  us 
cautious  and  humble  when  the  tide  of  prosperity  again 
turns  in  our  favor ;  sickness  is  designed  to  increase  our 
relish  for  the  blessings  of  health,  and  our  gratitude  for 
being  j)ermitted  again  to  enjoy  it ;  the  loss  of  friends 
is  ordained  to  turn  our  thoughts  and  our  affections 
more  devotedly  to  that  heavenly  Parent  who  will  be 
near  us,  though  every  earthly  object  of  love  should 
forsake  us  or  be  torn  from  us. 

In  this  manner  is  the  pious  man  exercised  by  the 
di\dne  chastisements.  His  fondness  for  the  world  is 
lessened,  but  yet  he  is  not  made  discontented  with  his 
present  condition ;  his  devotion  to  the  pursuits  of  time 
and  sense  is  moderated,  but  yet  he  does  not  become 
fretful  and  gloomy ;  his  attachment  to  worldly  objects 
is  meliorated,  and  still  is  not  unsocial  or  austere.  The 
first  object  of  his  love  is  God,  the  highest  employ- 
ment of  his  thoughts  is  heaven ;  but  he  still  has  time 


THE   FKUITS    OF   THE   LOEd's    CHASTENLNG.  411 

and  faculties  for  the  service  of  liis  fellow-men,  and  a 
cheerful  temper  for  innocent  enjoyments,  and  warm 
affections  for  his  family  and  his  friends. 

In  the  third  place,  the  man  who  is  exercised  by 
chastisement  is  improved  in  the  noble  virtue  of  charity. 
It  is  mentioned  in  the  Sacred  Volume  as  one  cause  of 
the  confidence  we  may  place  in  our  Saviour,  that  we 
have  not  a  high  priest  who  is  not  touched  with  a  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities;  but  in  that  he  was  himself 
tempted,  he  is  also  able  to  succor  those  that  are 
tempted.  If,  then,  to  pity  our  griefs,  and  to  relieve 
our  sorrows,  the  Son  of  God  became  a  man  of  sorrows 
and  acquainted  with  grief,  can  we  wonder  that  this 
discipline  should  be  necessary  to  excite  our  sympathies 
for  the  sufferings  of  our  fellow-men  ?  Prosperity,  and 
luxury  and  continued  pleasure  have  a  sad  effect  upon 
the  human  heart.  Under  their  influence  it  becomes 
selfish  and  cruel.  The  sorrows  of  others  are  un- 
thought  of  because  they  are  not  realized.  But  when 
the  evil  days  come  on,  they  bring  in  their  train  gentle- 
ness, and  pity,  and  open-handed  charity.  This  is  being 
exercised  by  afflictions  when  we  can  turn  from  our  own 
concerns  and  look  round  upon  our  fellow-travellers 
through  the  vale  of  tears.  And  here  again  do  we 
behold  the  wonderful  connections  and  dependencies 
of  our  state  of  existence.  The  suffering  man  is  made 
to  think  of  those  who  are  partners  with  him  in  grief, 
and  the  very  exertion  he  makes  to  soothe  their  woes 
shall  relieve  his  own. 

Beloved  brethren  and  fellow-pilgrims,  let  us  meditate 


412         THE   FKTJITS    OF   THE   LORd's    CHASTENINa. 

upon  the  words  of  our  text,  and  upon  tlie  salutary  doc- 
trines wliicli  flow  from  it.  We  are  indeed  in  a  world 
of  tears,  and  often  are  we  brought  to  realize  the  truth 
that  man  is  born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward. 
But  shall  we  therefore  repine,  and  in  practice,  if  not  in 
words,  charge  God  foolishly  ?  No ;  let  us  rather  admire 
and  adore  that  wisdom  and  goodness  which,  when  sin 
had  produced  sorrow,  has  caused  sorrow  to  become 
the  corrector  of  sin.  Our  chastisements  for  the  pres- 
ent cannot  seem  joyous,  but  grievous.  We  must  be 
sufferers.  Various  indeed  are  our  conditions  ;  but  no 
son  of  Adam  has  procured  exemption  from  disappoint- 
ments and  tears.  Let  it  be  our  part  to  convert  the  ills 
of  life  into  sources  of  good.  Let  us  draw  from  them 
lessons  of  resignation,  of  humility,  of  temj^erance,  of 
charity.  These  are  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness. How  much  more  of  happiness  have  we,  each 
of  us,  than  we  deserve  !  Let  him  complain  who  can 
declare  that  he  has  had  more  of  adversity  than  was 
necessary  to  bring  him  to  seriousness,  and  repentance, 
and  thoughtfulness  of  his  God.  But  let  us,  who  can 
understand  the  cause  of  all  our  sorrows,  let  us  be 
thankful  to  God  who  deals  with  us  as  with  his  chil- 
dren, chastising  us  in  time  that  he  may  discipline 
us  for  the  joys  of  eternity.  The  world  is  indeed  a 
vale  of  tears,  but  it  is  the  pathway  to  a  glorious  im- 
mortality. 

Let  us  then  endure  patiently  as  seeing  Him  who  is 
invisible  ;  let  us  improve  our  afflictions  as  l^ecomes  dis- 
ciples of  the  blessed  Jesus  ;  then  shall  the  hand  which 


THE   FEUITS    OF   THE    LOKd's    CHASTENING.         413 

now  punislies  be  extended  to  wipe  tlie  tears  from  the 
eyes  of  the  faithful,  and  to  place  upon  their  heads  a 
crown  of  rejoicing,  and  to  lead  them  to  those  blessed 
mansions  where  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  never  more 
be  heard. 


THE  BLESSED  SAVIOUR'S  INVITATION 
TO  ALL. 


JOHN     VI.     68. 
"Lord,  to  whom  shall  Ave  go?  thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

The  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  not  a  mere  record 
of  doctrines  to  be  believed,  and  rules  to  be  practised, 
under  tlie  sanction  of  future  rewards  and  punishments. 
Were  it  this  alone,  it  might  command  our  reverence 
for  its  wisdom  and  purity,  and,  in  many  cases,  secure 
obedience  through  the  influence  of  hope  and  fear  ;  but 
it  never  would  open  the  heart,  and  draw  forth  and 
sanctify  its  affections.  Now,  however,  its  adorable 
Author  is  so  associated  with  the  whole  system  of  re- 
vealed truth,  and  articles  of  faith,  and  precepts  and 
sacraments,  are  so  combined  with  the  attributes  of  his 
person,  and  the  commemorative  events  of  his  life,  that 
the  Gospel  is  made  to  us  an  ever-living  and  speaking 
teacher,  guide  and  friend.  The  Church  knows  and 
responds  to  this  truth,  and  exhibits  it  in  all  Ler  high 


THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUE's   IlSTVITATIOISr   TO    ALL.      415 

and  holy  festivals.  The  circle  of  her  year,  therefore, 
does  not  present  to  the  mind  a  succession  of  abstrac- 
tions, but  summons  us  to  be  present  at  the  birth,  and 
through  the  life,  and  at  the  death,  resurrection,  and 
ascension  of  Him,  whom,  having  thus  seen  on  earth 
with  the  eye  of  faith,  we  shall  one  day  behold  "  com- 
ing in  the  clouds  of  heaven  with  power  and  great 
glory ; "  and  thus  the  Church  enables  Him,  as  it  were 
himself,  again  and  again  to  j)roclaim  the  mighty  truths 
that  are  identified  with  his  eternal  being,  and  with  all 
that  he  did  and  suffered  to  accomplish  man's  salvation. 

To-day  the  Church  invites  us  to  behold  his  triumph 
over  death,  and  to  hail  him  as  our  risen  King,  and 
worshij)  him  as  Lord  of  hfe  and  glory.  And  this 
event,  in  interest  and  importance,  is  the  chief  and 
crowning  one  of  all  that  took  place  while  yet  he  taber- 
nacled with  sinful  flesh. 

The  resurrection  of  Jesus  from  the  tomb  is  the 
essential  proof  of  his  heavenly  mission,  and  the  j)ledge 
that  his  atonement  has  been  accepted.  This  fact  is  so 
intimately  connected  with  the  whole  system  of  redemp- 
tion, that,  if  brought  into  doubt  or  disbelief,  the  whole 
fabric  shakes  and  crumbles  into  utter  ruin.  The  resur- 
rection, therefore,  is  the  princij^al  point  against  which 
the  infidel  and  the  worldly  devotee  direct  their  attacks. 
They  know  that  with  this  truth  is  indissolubly  con- 
nected the  reality  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave,  and  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments ;  and  these 
being  the  chief  impediments  to  a  worldly  indulgence 
that  shall  be  free  from  restraint,  and  from  the  stings 


416      THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUk's   DfVITATIOlSr   TO   ALL. 

of  conscience,  tliey  would  gladly  undermine  it.  And 
then,  to  satisfy  tliose  cravings  of  the  soul  that  they 
cannot  extinguish,  they  madly  follow  after  hopes  and 
joys  that  religion  approves  not,  and  that  can  never 
lead  to  a  true  and  permanent  peace  and  satisfaction ; 
and  they  would  tempt  us  to  join  in  the  pursuit,  but 
happy  is  it  for  those  who  can  break  away  from  their 
seductions,  and,  turning  to  Jesus,  with  humble  trust 
and  faith  exclaim,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

It  was  at  a  remarkable  and  trying  period  that  this 
declaration  was  made.  Our  blessed  Lord  had  been  un- 
folding some  of  the  highest  mysteries  of  the  faith ; 
those  most  intimately  connected  with  the  great  object 
of  his  incarnation.  He  had  j)ronounced  that  remarka- 
ble discourse  which  St.  John  alone,  of  all  the  Evange- 
lists, records ;  wherein  he  represents  himself,  and  what 
he  was  to  perform  for  the  salvation  of  men,  under  the 
figure  of  the  bread  from  heaven.  "  I  am  the  living 
bread,  which  came  down  from  heaven ;  if  any  man  eat 
of  this  bread,  he  shall  live  for  ever ;  and  the  bread  that 
I  will  give  is  my  flesh,  which  I  will  give  for  the  life 
of  the  world."  When  the  Jews  strove  among  them- 
selves, in  astonishment  and  perplexity,  at  this  asser- 
tion ;  and  in  disbelief,  if  not  in  utter  contempt  of  it, 
saying,  "  How  can  this  man  give  us  his  flesh  to  eat  ? " 
our  Lord,  so  far  from  recalling  or  modifying  his  words, 
seemed  determined  to  leave  an  indelible  impression  of 
them  upon  the  minds  of  those  who  heard  him.  He, 
therefore,  repeated  the  mysterious  saying,  with  even  a 


THE    BLESSED   SAVIOUR's    IN^^TATIOlNr   TO    ALL.      417 

stronger  emphasis,  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Ex- 
cej^t  ye  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  drink  hiy 
blood,  ye  have  no  life  in  you.  Whoso  eateth  my  flesh 
and  drinketh  my  blood  hath  eternal  life,  and  I  will 
raise  him  up  at  the  last  day." 

These  sayings  are  not  without  difficulty  of  inter- 
pretation, even  to  us,  although  their  general  import  is 
sufficiently  clear.  They  embody  this  great  truth  of 
revelation — that  our  life  hereafter,  is  bound  up  in 
that  of  Christ,  and  that,  had  he  not  given  himself  for 
us,  we  had,  surely,  died  eternally ;  they,  moreover, 
prove  that,  in  order  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  benefit 
thus  procured  by  his  giving  himself  as  he  did,  to  die 
for  us,  we  must  receive  him  into  our  inmost  selves,  by 
the  exercise  of  a  lively  faith  ;  and  this  faith,  which  is 
to  nourish  the  soul,  as  bread  does  the  body,  is  to  be 
sustained  by  that  blessed  sacrament  that  he  instituted 
when  he  brake  the  bread,  and  poured  out  the  wine, 
saying,  "  This  is  my  body  which  is  given  for  you,  and 
my  blood  which  is  shed  for  you ; "  thus  making  the 
bread  and  wine  the  symbolical  representatives  of  his 
body,  which  was  nailed  to  the  cross,  and  of  his  blood 
which  he  shed  for  our  transgressions.  He,  therefore, 
who  sets  at  nousrht  the  atonement,  and  he  who  refuses 
to  appropriate  its  benefits  to  himself,  by  a  sacramen- 
tal union  with  Christ,  can  have  no  assurance  that  Christ 
will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day. 

Now  the  living  Teacher,  who  thus  sj)ake,  had  given 
full  proof  of  his  power  by  the  abundant  and  conclusive 
miracles  that  he  wrought ;  and,  therefore,  there  was 
27 


418      THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUe's    INVITATION   TO   ALL. 

no  excuse  for  tliose  wlio  rejected  him.  But  many  fell 
under  this  condemnation,  for  St.  John  states  to  us  that 
"  from  that  time  many  of  his  discij)les  went  back,  and 
walked  no  more  with  him."  Jesus,  seeing  this  great 
desertion  by  numbers  of  those  who  had  previously  fol- 
lowed him,  said  to  the  twelve,  "Will  ye,  also,  go 
away  ? "  Peter,  the  ardent  and  forward  discij)le,  sj^ake 
for  his  brethren,  and  said,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we 
go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  hfe."  They  be- 
lieved what  Christ  had  just  declared  to  them ;  they 
might  not,  indeed,  understand  its  full  import ;  they 
could  not,  then,  understand  it ;  for  its  mysterious  im- 
port ^YiXB  explained  only  by  the  sacrifice  and  death  of 
Christ,  and  by  the  institution  of  the  commemorative 
sacrament  which  was  to  show  forth  that  death  till  the 
Lord  come.  But,  though  they  understood  not,  they 
placed  implicit  confidence  in  him ;  they  knew  that  he 
could  not  deceive  them ;  they  saw  that  God  had  given 
him  power  to  work  such  deeds,  as,  never  before,  were 
performed  by  man,  and  that  he  spake  as,  never  before, 
had  man  spoken.  They  felt  assured,  also,  that  all  difii- 
culties  would,  in  due  time,  be  removed.  In  a  word, 
they  placed  implicit  confidence  in  Jesus,  as  their  long 
promised  Messiah  ;  and,  therefore,  to  whom  should 
they  go  ?  If  they  deserted  Christ,  what  was  left  for 
them,  but  to  return  to  the  imperfect  and  unsatisfactory' 
system  from  which  they  were  just  escaping ;  or  to  give 
up  all  faith  in  God,  and  Providence,  and  future  life,  in 
flat  despair  ? 

They,  therefore,  went  not  away.     One,  indeed,  fell ; 


THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUE's   INVITATION   TO   ALL.      419 

but  he  was,  even  tlien,  a  deceiver  and  a  liy|5ocrite ;  and 
his  true  character  was  known  by  our  I^ord ;  but  he 
was  permitted  for  a  while  to  retain  his  companionship 
with  the  disciples,  until  he  had  fully  accomplished  the 
traitor's  work.  The  others,  at  one  time  overcome  by 
fear,  forsook  their  Master  and  fled ;  and  he  who,  on 
this  occasion,  spake  so  boldly  for  the  rest,  even  denied 
him.  But  then*  desertion  was  short.  It  was  caused 
by  human  weakness  yielding  to  circumstances  that 
would  have  overwhelmed  any  mortal  courage  that  was 
not  heaven-supported.  They,  afterwards,  adhered  to 
the  cause  of  their  martyred  Saviour,  with  a  zeal  and 
firmness  of  purpose  that  they  could  not  have  exhibited 
during  his  presence  with  them.  They,  boldly,  pro- 
claimed his  truth ;  and  no  privations,  perils  or  suffer- 
ings deterred  them  ;  until,  at  last,  they  sealed  their  de- 
votion with  their  ])lood,  and  went  to  receive  that  re- 
ward for  which  they  had  sacrificed  all  worldly  consid- 
erations; and  to  inherit  that  life  which  the  Saviour 
had  promised  them,  and  purchased  for  them  by  his 
death. 

Now,  my  brethren,  when,  in  like  manner,  we  are 
tempted  to  desert  Christ,  to  relinquish  the  fiiith  and 
hopes  of  our  youth ;  when  doubts  arise,  such  as  those 
which  staggered  the  faith  of  many  to  whom  our  Lord 
unfolded  his  mysterious  but  important  doctrines  ;  when 
difficulties  are  presented  to  our  faith,  by  the  trials  and 
adversities  of  life ;  or,  when  base  interest,  or  unholy  de- 
sires, or  criminal  self-indulgence,  or  sensual  pleasures, 
would  draw  us  away;  it  behooves  us,  much,  to  ask 


420     THE   BLESSED   SAYIOTJe's   INVITATION   TO    ALL. 

ourselves,  "To  wliom  can  we  go  ? "  Is  tliere  any  other 
source  from  wliicli  we  can  draw  the  words  of  eternal 
life  ?  Is  tliere  any  other  way,  opened  before  us,  which 
can  lead  to  greater  honor,  comfort  and  peace  below ; 
with  greater  pleasures,  in  reversion  above,  which  are 
at  God's  right  hand  ? 

Somewhere  we  Tnust  go.  Our  very  nature,  the  in- 
stinct of  our  being,  requires  us  thus  to  move  about  in 
search  of  true  enjoyment.  We  have  wants,  perpetual- 
ly rising  up,  that  imperiously  demand  gratification. 
The  mind  seeks  for  knowledge  and  truth,  and,  each 
step  of  its  progress  but  impels  it  to  take  another.  The 
heart  seeks  to  gratify  its  yearnings,  and  no  return  of 
affection,  from  human  love,  seems  to  satisfy  it.  The 
passions  are  ever  restless,  and  no  measure  of  their  ap- 
propriate objects  can  appease  them.  Thus,  the  hfe  of 
man  can  never  be  a  state  of  rest  or  satisfaction.  This, 
all  are  obliged  to  experience,  and  some  are  forced  to 
confess  in  the  anguish  of  disappointed  hope.  Now, 
the  all-important  question  is,  whither,  or  "to  whom 
shall  we  go?"  There  are,  certainly,  other  teachers 
than  Jesus  Christ ;  and  other  roads,  that  we  may  j)ur- 
sue  in  life,  rather  than  those  that  he  marks  out.  If 
these  teachers  are  wiser,  better,  and  more  capable  of 
inspiring  us  with  true  wisdom  than  he,  we  shall  do  well 
to  become  their  disciples ;  and,  if  the  path  that  they 
direct  us  to  follow,  more  certainly  leads  to  happiness, 
we  should  do  foolishly  not  to  put  ourselves  upon  it. 
We  cannot  deny,  it  would  be  useless  to  deny,  for  no 
one  would  believe  us,  that  the  great  object  of  pursuit 


THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUR's    INVITATIOI^   TO    ALL.      421 

in  this  life  is,  and  should  be,  happiness.  The  Gospel 
does  not  deny,  or  put  out  of  sight,  this  obvious  truth. 
On  the  contrary,  all  its  provisions  of  faith,  and  pre- 
cepts of  duty,  are  founded  upon  it.  Its  blessed  Author 
came  to  the  earth  upon  this  very  errand,  to  show  man 
how  and  where  true  happiness  is  to  be  found ;  and, 
more  than  this,  by  his  own  sacrifice  to  restore  man  to 
a  condition  in  which  he  might  seek  and  secure  this 
happiness,  when  it  had  been  lost  by  transgression. 

Oh !  say  not,  then,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  teacher 
of  a  cruel  and  unreasonable  doctrine ;  and,  that  those 
who  the  first  become  his  disciples,  must  begin  by 
denouncing  the  first  law  of  their  being.  Say  not, 
that  austerity,  and  mortification,  and  self-denial,  for 
their  own  sake,  form  the  discipline  that  he  requu-es 
of  those  who  profess  his  faith ;  and,  that  the  sj^irit 
of  his  religion  prompts  man  to  merit  heaven  by 
"  making  earth  a  hell."  Not  so ;  not  so.  He  sj^ake 
not  in  mockery,  when  he  said,  "  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,  for  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is 
light."  And  those  who  have  most  fully  received  his 
offer,  and  have  most  faithfully  tested  its  truth,  by  ex- 
perience, are  best  satisfied  of  its  sincerity  and  truth. 
Can  the  same  be  said  of  the  offers  that  come  from  an 
opposite  source  ?  Has  yet  the  man  been  found,  who, 
listening  to  the  voice  of  pleasure  or  ambition,  and  fol- 
lowing, with  earnest  and  breathless  exertions,  the  vari- 
ous objects  which,  in  succession  they  have  placed  be- 
fore his  eyes,  substituting  another  and  another,  as  he 
has  come  up  Tvdth  each,  and  seizing  it,  and  finding  it  to 


422      THE   BLESSED    SAVIOUe's   ENTYITATION   TO    ALL. 

be  emptiness  and  vanity,  at  the  end  of  Ms  career  lias 
declared  that  his  hopes  have  been  realized,  and  the 
yearnings  of  his  soul  gratified  ?  If  there  be  that  man, 
he  has  gone,  and  left  no  such  testimony  for  the  direc- 
tion and  encouragement  of  his  fellow  pilgrims  on  earth. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  multitudes  are  there  who,  like 
Solomon,  have  said  to  their  hearts,  "  Go  to  now  ;  I  will 
prove  thee  with  mirth ; "  and,  hke  him,  have  made 
trial  of  all  the  delights  of  the  sons  of  men  ;  and,  in  the 
end,  have  been  constrained  to  cry  out,  "Vanity  of 
vanities  ;  all  is  vanity."  Even  under  the  most  favora- 
ble circumstances,  and  with  an  accumulation  around 
him  of  all  appliances  and  means  for  worldly  enjoyment, 
this  has  been  the  miserable  result.  Riches,  to  any 
amount,  never  pall  the  appetite  for  accumulation. 
Sensual  pleasure  must,  at  last,  sicken  by  satiety ;  and 
ambitious  desires  lead  on  to  bitter  mortification ;  or,  to 
a  hollow  and  comfortless  splendor ;  and  knowledge, 
even  the  highest  and  worthiest,  of  mere  earthly  pur- 
suits, j)roves  only  how  little  can  be  known.  The  wisest, 
by  their  own  confession^  seem  to  themselves,  only,  at 
last,  like  children,  on  the  shores  of  ocean,  who  have 
gathered  to  themselves  a  few  pebbles  brighter  than 
their  fellows. 

But  this  is,  by  no  means  the  whole  statement  of 
the  case,  as  you  well  know.  God,  in  his  mercy,  as  if 
to  constrain  his  foolish  and  perverse  children,  to  dii'ect 
their  exertions  towards  that  whereby  their  true  and 
permanent  interests  would  be  secured,  and  their  real 
happiness  accomplished,  has  given,  to  all  sublunary 


THE   BLESSED   SAVIOUE's   IKVITATIOlSr   TO    ALL.      423 

tilings,  the  inseparable  attril^ute  of  uncertainty ;  and 
lias  written,  in  characters  that  can  never  he  erased^ 
uj^on  man  and  all  his  works,  "Dust  thou  art,  and  unto 
dust  thou  shalt  return."  His  period  of  existence,  then, 
brief  at  the  longest ;  and  his  life,  chequered  at  the  best ; 
sorrow  coming,  often,  to  shut  out  joy ;  disappointment, 
to  banish  hope ;  and  death,  to  tread,  with  ftist  and  in- 
evitable footsteps  upon  life ;  "  to  whom  shall  we  go," 
if  not  to  Him  who  has  "  the  words  of  eternal  life  ? " 

He  is  ready,  he  is  longing  to  receive  us  all.  His 
gracious  invitation  is  ever  open  to  our  acceptance, 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye,"  not  only,  ye  "  weary,"  who 
seek  for  rest;  but,  ye  wanderers  in  uncertainty,  who 
would  have  a  sure  and  worthy  object  through  life,  and 
a  bright  and  cheering  hope  in  death;  ye  children, 
whom  he  loves,  whom  he  hath  taken  to  his  arms,  and 
whom  he  will  tend  and  cherish  in  his  bosom,  and  keep 
from  the  evil  one,  if  ye  still  cling  to  him ;  and  ye 
youth,  just  entering  upon  life,  and  who  would  pass 
through  its  perils  in  safety,  and  secure  the  only  pleas- 
ures that  leave  no  sting  behind. 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS. 


Numbers  xxiii.  10. 

"Let  me  die  the   death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be 
Uke  his." 

To  die  tlie  death  of  tlie  rigliteous  is  a  consuni- 
mation  devoutly  to  be  wished  for  by  every  one  who 
has  the  least  belief  in  God  and  a  future  state  of  exist- 
ence. And  we  may  observe  that,  however  different 
the  conduct  of  men  in  their  progress  through  life,  they 
will  all  readily  concur  in  this  sentiment  expressed  by 
the  prophet  Balaam.  Indeed,  looking  forward  to  that 
awful  period  when  the  places  which  now  know  us  shall 
know  us  no  more,  and  when  we  shall  be  obhged  to 
take  our  solitary  departure  to  the  unexplored  region 
beyond  the  grave,  who  would  not  wish  for  the  hopes 
and  promises  which  sustain  the  heart  of  the  good  man 
and  open  a  cheering  prospect  before  him  ?  Why  do 
we  not  then,  while  time  and  opportunity  are  afforded, 
secure  to  ourselves  an  interest  in  these  things  ?     We 


TIIE   DEATH    OF   THE   IlIGHTEOUS.  425 

are  perfectly  convinced  tliat  we  must  die  ;  we  cannot 
hesitate  a  moment  under  wliicli  of  the  two  characters, 
that  of  the  righteous  or  the  wicked  man,  we  should 
choose  to  meet  the  king  of  terrors,  and  yet  we  pass 
our  days  and  years  in  fruitless  wishes.  We  are  devo- 
ted to  vain  pursuits,  and  perhaps  to  sinful  pleasures ; 
and  yet  when  the  idea  of  mortality  for  a  moment 
arrests  our  attention,  we  still  hope  that,  somehow  or 
other,  it  will  come  to  pass  that  we  shall  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  our  last  end  be  like  his. 

Such  is  the  delusion  of  a  great  portion  of  the 
world ;  but  you,  my  brethren,  I  would  hope,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  to  bring  to  a  better  and  more  consistent 
state  of  mind.  I  therefore  request  your  attention,  while, 
in  the  first  place,  I  briefly  represent  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  words  of  the  text  were  first  uttered  ; 
and  secondly^  unfold  their  full  import ;  and  thirdly^ 
state  the  means  by  which  they  may  be  accomplished 
in  reference  to  ourselves. 

I.  The  children  of  Israel,  in  their  j)rogress  towards 
their  destined  land,  had  pitched  their  camps  in  the 
plains  of  Moab.  Balak,  the  king  of  that  country, 
terrified  at  theu'  great  numbers  and  their  previous  suc- 
cess in  destroying  the  enemies  that  oj^posed  them,  re- 
solved to  use  ao;ainst  them  the  arts  of  divination.  For 
this  purpose  he  sent  messengei's  with  presents  to  induce 
Balaam,  a  distinguished  person,  whose  blessing  or  curse 
was  supposed  to  have  a  peculiar  eflicacy,  to  come  and 
solemnly  devote  his  enemies  to  destruction.  In  a  mat- 
ter of  so  much  importance,  the  prophet  sought  those 


426  THE   DEATH   OF   THE   EIGHTEOUS. 

express  directions  wliicli  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world 
tlie  Lord  vouclisafed  to  communicate  to  chosen  indi- 
viduals.    The   Divine   permission  was  withheld,  and 
the   prophet  declared  to  Balak's  messengers  that  he 
could  not  violate  the  injunctions  of  God.     Thus  far 
his  conduct  was  commendable,  and  such  as  became  his 
holy  character.     The  king  of  Moab,  however,  sends 
other  and  more  honorable  messengers,  and  with  larger 
promises,  and  urges  Balaam  to  let  nothing  hinder  him 
from  coming.     To  this   application  he  made  a  most 
noble  reply.     "  If  Balak  would  give  me  his  house  full 
of  silver  and  gold,  I  cannot  go  beyond  the  word  of  the 
Lord  my  God  to  do  less  or  more."     This  was  certainly 
the  language  of  resolute  virtue  ;  l^ut  it  was  only  its 
language,  for  the  integrity  of  Balaam  began  to  give 
way  to  the  temptation  of  riches  and  honors.     Instead 
therefore  of  again  dismissing  the  messengers,  and  re- 
fusing to  engage  in  an  undertaking  which  he  knew 
would  be  displeasing  to  the  Lord,  he  hoped  to  extort 
a  permission  from  him.     The  Lord,  who  saw  the  work- 
ings of  his  mind,  and  that  he  longed  to  receive  the 
wages  of  his  iniquity,  permitted  him,  as  he  often  per- 
mits evil  men,  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  headstrong 
desires.     He  had,  however,  many  supernatural  warn- 
ings to  convince  him,  if  possible,  that  his  way  was 
perverse  before  the  Lord.     Still  he  went  forward,  and 
when  he  came  to  Balak,  practised  enchantments  against 
the  people  of  God ;  and  by  removing  from  place  to 
place,  and  performing  sacrifices,  pertinaciously  sought 
the  fulfilment  of  his  desires.     But  he  was  overruled, 


THE   DEATH    OF   THE   EIGHTEOUS.  427 

and  forced  re2:)eatedly  to  pronounce  blessings  upon  the 
chosen  people  of  God. 

In  his  first  prophetical  communication  the  words 
of  the  text  occur.  They  appear  to  be  a  solemn  reflec- 
tion suggested  to  the  prophet  while  announcing  the 
future  prosperity  of  the  children  of  Israel.  From  the 
eminence  on  which  he  was  placed  he  looked  down 
upon  their  camps,  filling  the  extended  plains  of  Moab, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Who  can  count  the  dust  of  Jacob, 
and  the  number  of  the  fourth  part  of  Israel  ?  Let  me 
die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end,  or 
my  reward,  be  like  his."  Thus  while  he  was  anxiously 
endeavoring,  for  the  sake  of  a  reward,  to  discover  the 
means  of  cursing  a  people  whom  he  knew  to  be  favored 
of  God,  he  could  yet  desire  that  his  course  might  ter- 
minate like  that  of  a  righteous  man  ! 

Balaam  could  not  plead  ignorance  of  the  Divine 
will,  or  the  manner  in  which  the  Divine  favor  was  to 
be  propitiated.  Indeed  he  was  remarkably  well  in- 
formed as  to  the  duties  of  the  good  man,  for  it  was  to 
Balaam,  and  on  this  very  occasion,  that  the  Prophet 
Micah  ascribes  that  remarkable  delineation  of  Avhat 
God  required  from  his  creatures.  Balak  asks,  "  where- 
with shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and  bow  myself 
before  the  hio-h  God  ?  Shall  I  come  before  him  with 
burnt-offerings,  with  calves  of  a  year  old  ?  Will  the 
Lord  be  pleased  with  thousands  of  rams,  or  with  ten 
thousands  of  rivers  of  oil  ?  Shall  I  give  my  fii'st-born 
for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin 
of  my  soul  ? "     To  these  interrogatories  of  the  king 


428  THE   DEATII    OF   THE   EIGHTEOUS. 

of  Moab,  Balaam  returns  tliis  sublime  answer :  "  He 
hatli  shewed  tliee,  O  man,  wliat  is  good ;  and  what 
doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  do  justly,  to  love 
mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God."  At  the 
very  time  he  was  expounding  in  so  admirable  a  man- 
ner the  whole  duty  of  man,  he  was  \dolating  every  one 
of  these  requisitions.  He  was  trying  to  procure  the 
destruction  of  a  virtuous  and  unoffending  people,  that 
he  might  thereby  gratify  his  avaricious  desires,  and 
thus  he  offended  against  the  laws  of  justice  and  mercy ; 
and  he  was  attempting  to  evade  what  he  knew  to  be 
the  Divine  will,  and  thus  he  was  walking  j)erversely 
instead  of  humbly  with  his  God. 

Are  we  surprised  that  a  man  of  Balaam's  character, 
and  in  the  very  midst  of  his  iniquitous  practices,  should 
yet  hope  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous  ?  This  is 
neither  an  uncommon  nor  an  unnatural  occurrence  ; 
for  although  men  are  tempted  into  the  paths  of  sin, 
and  expect  to  find  in  them  a  higher  gratification,  they 
still  cannot  help  acknowledging  that  the  ways  of  wis- 
dom are  ways  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  And  how- 
ever false  their  estimate  may  be  of  that  which  con- 
stitutes the  true  happiness  of  life,  they  are  assured 
that  vu'tue  is  the  only  security  for  a  serene  and  happy 
death.  The  most  abandoned  of  men  will  often  bear 
this  testimony  to  the  power  and  value  of  religion,  and 
will  say,  "  let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and 
let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

11.  But  let  us  now,  as  was  proposed,  examine  the 
full  import  of  these  words.     They  involve  a  great  deal. 


THE    DEATH    OF    THE    EIGHTEOUS.  429 

mucli  more  tliau  tliouglitless  sinners  compreliend,  or 
they  could  not  indulge  the  vain  hope  of  terminating  a 
career  of  ^^ice  and  folly  with  a  peaceful  and  happy 
departure  from  the  world.  To  die  the  deatli  of  the 
righteous  is  to  depart  out  of  the  world  with  that  hope 
and  comfort  which  surround  the  dying  bed  of  the 
man  who  has  lived  a  pious  and  virtuous  hfe.  What 
the  righteous  man  is  we  may  learn  from  the  j)assage 
of  Scripture  just  quoted  from  the  prophet  Micah.  He 
is  one  who  does  justly,  loves  mercy,  and  walks  humbly 
with  his  God.  To  such  a  man,  one  who  has  passed 
through  his  state  of  pilgrimage  uj^on  earth  under  the 
influence  of  these  principles,  deatli  will  seem  divested 
of  its  terrors.  While  on  the  contrary  to  him  who  has 
lived  in  violation  of  his  duty  to  his  fellow  man,  and 
in  neglect  of  his  God,  the  23eriod  of  dissolution  must 
generally  be  one  of  sorrow  and  dismay. 

Terrors  do  not  indeed  always  surround  the  bed  of 
the  wicked,  for  their  hearts  may  become  hardened  and 
insensible,  and  the  princijDles  of  a  false  and  pernicious 
philosophy  may  sometimes  destroy  fear  while  it  shuts 
out  hope.  But  to  a  man  who  believes  in  the  existence 
of  a  God,  and  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ments— and  there  are  very  few  men  who  can  entirely 
shake  off  these  solemn  truths  —  what  can  be  more 
awful  than  to  be  suddenly  awakened  to  the  conviction 
that  his  days  are  numbered,  if  at  the  same  time  he 
must  look  back  upon  these  days  as  spent  in  folly  and 
wickedness  ?  The  past  furnishes  him  no  cheering  re- 
flections ;  the  anguish  of  regret  for  time  and  privileges 


430  THE   DEATH   OF    THE   RIGHTEOUS. 

hTecoveral)ly  lost,  pierces  liis  inmost  soul.  And  to 
look  forward  is  still  more  dreadful.  He  is  fast  hasten- 
ing to  a  world  for  whose  society  and  occupations  he  is 
conscious  of  being  totally  unfitted,  and  he  is  to  be 
summoned  into  the  presence  of  a  God  whom  he  has 
neglected  and  despised.  Now  the  thoughts  of  his  nu- 
merous transgressions  crowd  thick  upon  his  memory. 
They  appear  like  a  black  cloud  hanging  over  him,  and 
not  a  gleam  of  hope  can  break  through.  He  can  no 
longer  retreat  from  himself.  Conscience  has  begun 
those  torments  which  she  will  inflict  upon  his  guilty 
soul  in  the  future  eternal  world.  He  is  reduced  to 
utter  despair.  Where  can  he  look  for  relief  ?  Upon 
whose  name  can  he  call  for  help  ?  There  is  indeed 
one  mighty  to  save,  whose  name  is  all-powerful,  and 
who  can  restore  hope  to  the  worst  of  sinners  and  infuse 
comfort  into  the  heart  of  penitent  transgressors. 

We  dare  not  limit  the  mercy  of  God ;  we  cannot 
deny  that  the  Redeemer's  blood  has  an  unbounded 
efficacy.  He  who  pardoned  sins  and  relieved  infirmi- 
ties by  the  word  of  his  mouth,  and  promised  an  admit- 
tance into  Paradise  to  the  penitent  thief  who  called 
upon  him  at  the  latest  hour — He  indeed  can  remove 
the  dark  cloud  of  transgression,  and  by  the  power  of 
his  cross  fill  the  heart  of  the  expiring  sinner  with  joy 
and  peace  in  believing.  But  this  can  aftbrd  no  reason- 
able ground  of  trust  in  a  death-bed  repentance.  To 
abandon  sin  because  we  can  no  longer  practise  it ;  to 
call  upon  Christ  because  the  world  and  all  that  it  con- 
tains is  receding  from  our  view ;  this  is  a  slender  title 


THE   DEATH    OF   THE   EIGHTEOUS.  431 

to  tlie  favor  of  God.  And  besides  allowiiiG:  tliat  a 
deatli-bed  repentance  may  be  tlioroiigli  and  unfeigned, 
who  can  say  that  this  opportunity,  short  and  uncertain 
as  it  is,  will  be  afforded  him  ?  Are  there  not  casualties 
and  diseases  which  carry  men  off  as  in  a  moment  ? 
Are  there  not,  also,  distempers  of  body  which  destroy 
the  mind  and  render  it  incapable  of  thought  or  prayer  ? 
And  will  God,  the  God  of  justice,  be  likely  to  furnish 
an  opportunity  for  repentance  and  grace  to  use  it,  to 
the  man  who  has  despised  religion,  neglected  every 
warning,  and  who  turned  to  his  Saviour  only  when  the 
world  and  its  pleasures  are  wrested  from  his  grasp  ? 
No,  my  brethren,  if  there  is  any  efficacy  in  a  death-bed 
repentance,  this  great,  this  unspeakable  favor  is  re- 
served for  the  very  few  who  are  taken  as  brands  from 
the  burning,  and  whose  sins  may  have  had  some  un- 
known circumstances  of  alleviation.  But  even  in  such 
a  case,  can  it  be  called  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and 
should  we  venture  to  pray  that  our  last  end  might  be 
like  this  ?  It  is  not  the  death  of  the  ri2:hteous,  and  it 
can  only  be  hoped  for  by  him  who  has  no  other  hope 
left. 

The  death  of  the  righteous  is  the  death  of  one  who, 
amidst  many  infirmities  and  great  imj^erfection,  has 
still  endeavored  to  live  in  obedience  to  his  Maker's 
will,  and  who  at  the  closing  scene  can  look  back  upon 
a  well-spent  life,  not  as  the  ground  of  his  acceptance 
with  God,  but  as  giving  him  an  interest  in  the  merits 
of  his  Redeemer.  All  his  thoughts  are  of  peace  and 
joy.     His  memory  and  conscience  are  not  tormenting 


432  THE   DEATH    OF   THE   KIGHTEOTJS. 

fiends,  goading  him  to  madness  and  despair ;  they  are 
like  kind  and  cheerful  companions,  who  beguile  his 
way  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
He  remembers  it  is  true  that  he  has  often  transgressed, 
but  not  often  wilfully  and  perseveringly,  and  these, 
the  errors  of  his  sinful  nature,  he  knows  that  the  blood 
of  atonement  will  remove.  He  does  not  expect  that 
God  will  bestow  uj^on  him  the  rewards  of  heaven  on 
account  of  his  goodness ;  for  then,  alas  !  he  would  just- 
ly fear  that  it  would  be  too  imperfect  for  the  inspec- 
tion of  the  God  of  truth  and  purity.  He  looks  for  ac- 
ceptance through  the  merits  of  his  Redeemer  alone. 
His  comfort  is,  that  he  has  loved  and  has  tried  to  serve 
this  Redeemer,  and  though  he  has  ever  been  an  un- 
profitable, he  has  not  been  an  unworthy,  servant.  He 
can  speak  words  of  comfort  to  weeping  children  and 
grieving  friends ;  he  tells  them  that  there  is  joy  and 
peace  in  believing,  and  that  the  whole  world  could  not 
tempt  him  to  give  up  the  satisfaction  he  enjoys.  Even 
upon  the  bed  of  languishing  and  death,  he  resigns  his 
spirit  in  the  full  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality,  and 
he  lea,ves  behind  him  the  rich  legacy  of  a  spotless  repu- 
tation, and  a  virtuous  examj^le.  Such  a  scene  as  this, 
and,  blessed  be  God,  it  has  many  times  been  witnessed, 
says  more  for  the  power  and  truth  of  religion  than 
thousands  of  volumes  ;  and  he  who  has  beheld  it  must 
acknowledge  that  it  almost  made  him  covetous  of  death, 
if  he  might  die  the  death  of  the  righteous.  "The 
chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate  is  privi- 


THE   DEATH    OF   THE   KIGHTEOUS.  433 

leged  beyond  the  common  walks  of  virtuous  life — quite 
in  the  verge  of  heaven." 

Are  we  induced  by  this  representation  earnestly  to 
desire  that  ours  may  be  the  death  of  the  righteous  ? 
And  surely,  my  brethren,  we  cannot  be  so  insensible 
to  our  dearest  interests,  at  that  trying  period  when  we 
must  have  done  with  worldly  concerns,  as  not  to  desire  it. 
We  cannot  so  entu-ely  set  at  naught  the  power  of  the 
king  of  terrors,  as  not  to  care  about  arming  ourselves 
to  meet  him.  We  cannot  so  undervalue  the  satisfac- 
tion of  yielding  up  our  spirits  wdth  serenity  and  joy 
into  the  hands  of  our  Maker,  as  not  to  wish  for  such  a 
conclusion  of  our  mortal  career.  Let  us,  then,  faithful- 
ly employ  the  only  means  by  which  we  can  secure  the 
death  of  the  righteous. 

III.  We  must  be  with  the  righteous  in  our  lives,  if 
we  would  have  our  part  and  lot  with  him  in  our  death. 
There  is  no  other  possible  method  of  obtaining  the  con- 
summation that  we  wish  for.  We  have  seen  that  not 
sacrifices,  even  the  most  costly,  thousands  of  rams  and 
ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil,  nor  even  to  give  up  what 
is  dearer  than  all  wealth,  the  offspring  of  our  loins,  will 
proj^itiate  the  favor  of  the  Almighty.  His  constant 
and  unchanging  demand  is,  that  we  do  justly,  love 
mercy,  and  walk  huml^ly.  And  that  conduct  which 
is  well-pleasing  to  God  can  alone  smooth  the  bed  of 
death. 

Of  this  truth  all  the  holy  men  under  the  Old  Tes- 
tament dispensations  were  firmly  convinced.  There- 
fore, Job  resolutely  declared,  "  My  righteousnes  I  hold 
28 


434  THE   DEATH    OF   THE   EIGHTEOTJS. 

fast,  aud  will  not  let  it  go;  my  lieart  shall  not  re- 
proach me  so  long  as  I  live."  And  the  pious  Psalmist 
also  says,  "  Keep  innocency,  and  take  heed  unto  the 
thing  that  is  I'ight ;  for  this  shall  bring  a  man  peace 
at  the  last."  And  in  the  New  Testament  we  see  a  no- 
bler spirit  and  a  more  animating  hope  inspiring  the 
Apostle  when  he  exulted  even  at  the  approach  of 
death.  "  The  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand ;  I  have 
fougLt  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have 
kept  the  faith ;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a 
crown  of  glory,  which  the  righteous  Lord  shall  give  me 
at  that  day."  "  Mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the 
upright ;  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace."  And  to 
him  alone  can  it  be  peace.  To  the  worldly  and  wicked 
man,  it  must  be  anxiety,  remorse,  despair ;  a  fearful 
looking  for  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which  shall 
devour  the  wicked.  But  to  him  it  is  peace.  Con- 
science is  serene,  memory  recalls  to  him  pleasing  im- 
ages of  the  past,  faith  represents  to  him  his  sins  re- 
moved by  the  cross  of  Christ.  Hope  stands  beside 
him  like  an  angel  of  light,  and  turns  the  shadow  of 
death  into  morning — the  bright  morning  of  a  cloudless 
and  eternal  day. 

Who  is  there,  then,  so  stuj^id,  so  insensible  as  not 
to  say,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 
my  last  end  be  like  his  ? "  To  him  who  truly  and  ear- 
nestly adopts  this  language,  I  say,  on  the  warrant  of 
the  Gospel  of  Christ,  you  shall  die  this  death  provided 
the  life  you  now  live  in  the  flesh  is  by  faith  in  the  Son 
of  God.     I  beseech  you,  brethren,  consider  now  the 


THE   DEATH   OF   THE   EIGHTEOUS  435 

things  wliicli  belong  to  your  eternal  peace.  And  God 
enable  us  all  to  keej)  in  \dew  the  time  of  our  departure, 
and  to  regulate  our  conduct  with  reference  to  this 
solemn  and  inevitable  event ;  thus  may  the  bed  of 
death  have  no  terrors  for  us  ;  1)ut  may  we  look  upon 
it  only  as  our  passage  from  the  sorrows,  and  infirmities, 
and  disappointments  of  life,  to  the  unsj)eakable  and  en- 
during happiness  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OE  DIVINE  GRACE. 


John  vi.  44, 


"  No  man  can  come  to  me,  except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me 
draw  him." 

These  words  are  full  of  important  meaning,  but 
they  are  not  free  from  difficulty  of  interpretation. 
They  contain  an  essential  and  eminently  practical  doc- 
trine of  the  Gospel,  but  one  which  the  perverted  in- 
genuity of  the  human  mind  has  often  involved  in  need- 
less metaphysical  subtleties,  and  upon  which  it  has 
raised  some  of  the  most  interminable  and  mischievous 
controversies  that  have  ever  disturbed  the  Church. 
The  assertion  of  our  blessed  Lord  is  very  explicit,  that 
no  man  can  come  to  him,  that  is,  believe  in  him  and 
receive  him  as  a  Saviour,  unless  drawn  thereto  by  the 
power  of  God.  Now  it  is  manifest  that  in  multitudes 
of  other  passages  of  Scripture  we  are  invited  to  come 
to  Christ,  as  if  the  ability  to  do  so  rested  entirely 
with  ourselves ;  and  moreover,  we  are  emphatically 
told  that  our  refusal  to  accept  the  Gospel  conditions 


THE   ESTFLUEISrCE   OF   DIVrNE    GEACE.  437 

of  salvation  is  a  grievous  sin,  for  wliicli  we  sliall  be 
condemned  to  perisli  everlastingly.  These  respective 
declarations  liave  been  thickly  planted  round  with  the 
thorny  questions  of  election  and  reprobation,  man's  free 
will  and  God's  foreknowledge. 

In  discoursing  upon  the  text,  then,  I  choose  to  place 
myself  by  the  side  of  one  who,  treating  of  a  different 
but  kindred  passage  of  Holy  Writ,  has  said,  "  These 
foolish  and  unlearned  questions  which  gender  strife 
can  be  no  fit  subject  for  the  Christian  minister,  who 
for  his  own  sake  and  that  of  his  hearers,  should  dwell 
on  nothing  from  this  place  but  what  may  be  j^rofitable 
for  godliness."  "  If,  indeed,  I  might  judge  of  others  by 
myself,  I  might  safely  leave  this  matter  at  rest  as  one 
which  has  never  disturbed  my  mind,  and  which  I  trust, 
by  God's  grace,  will  never  do  so."  In  selecting  the 
text,  then,  I  do  not  propose  to  make  it  the  occasion  of 
bringing  forward  a  difficult  question  to  discuss,  and  of 
endeavoring  to  explain  what  I  believe  never  can  be 
explained,  how  the  freedom  of  the  human  will  is  to  be 
reconciled  with  God's  foreknowledge ;  my  design  is  to 
state  as  simply  and  as  clearly  as  I  may  the  doctrine  of 
Divine  influence,  and  the  practical  consequences  that 
flow  from  it. 

The  words  before  us  were  originally  uttered  in  the 
way  of  reproof  Our  Lord  had  been  discoursing  to 
the  Jews  in  language  very  striking,  but  cei'tainly  very 
mysterious,  upon  his  nature  and  office,  under  the  figure 
of  the  bread  which  came  down  from  heaven,  upon 
which  all  must  feed  who  would  grow  up  unto  everlast- 


438  THE   rNTL^JENCE    OF   DIVINE   GEACE. 

ins:  life.  This  assertion  followed  witliin  a  few  hours 
after  the  performance  of  the  miracle  of  feeding  five 
thousand  persons  with  five  loaves  and  two  small  fishes, 
and  the  persons  to  whom  Jesus  was  speaking  had  been 
present  on  the  occasion,  and  had  been  thus  fed  from 
the  hand  of  one  who  manifestly  exercised  a  Divine 
power.  Instead,  therefore,  of  murmuring  at  his  words, 
as  they  did,  most  unreasonably  and  most  ungratefully, 
they  ought  to  have  asked  in  humility  for  farther  ex- 
planations, to  remove  the  difiiculty  which  might  natu- 
rally have  embarrassed  their  minds.  They  manifested 
now,  as  upon  so  many  other  occasions,  an  obstinate  in- 
credulity, and  they  would  not  accept  him  that  had 
been  sent  unto  them,  notwithstanding  all  the  proofs  he 
gave  of  his  Divine  mission.  To  such  persons,  then,  and 
upon  the  exhibition  of  such  confirmed  infidelity,  our 
Lord  makes  the  assertion,  "  No  man  can  come  unto  me, 
except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me  draw  him." 

Now  it  is  important  here  to  remember,  that  upon  a 
similar  occasion,  when  a  company  of  Jews  was  exhibit- 
ing the  same  hardened  resistance  to  the  expostulations 
of  Jesus,  he  said  to  them,  "ye  will  not  come  to  me  that 
ye  might  have  life."  Here  it  is  unquestionably  implied 
that  the  coming  to  Christ  was  dependent  upon  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  free  will  of  those  to  whom  the  invitation 
was  given.  It  is  not  possible  to  suppose  that  our  blessed 
Lord  would  have  used  this  language,  and  thus  have 
charged  the  guilt  of  rejecting  him  upon  themselves, 
at  the  same  time  knowing  they  were  held  stiU  by 
an  irresistible  necessity,  until  some  power  independent 


THE   INFLUENCE    OF   DIVINE    GEACE.  439 

of  themselves  interposed  its  assistance.  Their  rejection 
of  Christ  was  wilful,  they  were  free  agents  at  the  time, 
or  that  rejection  could  not  have  been  charged  upon 
them  as  a  sin. 

It  is  a  principle  of  justice  inherent  in  the  human 
mind,  and  one  which  comes  before,  and  in  a  certain 
sense  stands  above  revelation,  that  a  man  cannot  be 
justly  pronounced  guilty  for  not  doing  that  which  he 
never  possessed  the  power  of  doing.  When,  therefore, 
our  Saviour  says,  "  No  man  can  come  to  me,  except  the 
Father  draw  him,"  one  of  two  conclusions  is  inevitable ; 
either  that  those  who  hear  the  call  of  the  Gospel  but 
do  not  obey  it,  are  without  sin,  inasmuch  as  they  were 
not  capable  of  obeying,  and  were  not  assisted  by  the 
Almighty,  or  else  that  all  those  who  hear  this  call 
have  at  the  same  time  offered  to  their  acceptance  the 
help  implied  in  the  words,  being  drawn  of  God,  and 
therefore  they  are  guilty  because  they  refuse  this  help. 
Now,  which  of  these  conclusions  is  the  true  and  Scrip- 
tural one,  is  a  question  that  involves  not  a  moment's 
doubt.  Christ  Jesus  havino-  come  to  offer  himself  as  a 
propitiatory  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  all  men,  he  invites 
all  men  every  where  to  repent,  and  to  come  unto  him 
that  they  may  have  everlasting  life,  and  whosoever 
hears  this  invitation  is  put  into  a  condition  to  accept 
it ;  for  if  he  is  willing  to  be  drawn,  he  will  most  as- 
suredly be  drawn  of  the  Father. 

This  statement  is  capable  of  a  very  simple  illustra- 
tion. A  man  may  be  placed  in  a  situation  of  great 
danger,  one  from  which  his  own  strength  and  exertions 


440  THE   INFLUElSrCE   OF   DIVINE   GEACE. 

could  never  avail  to  relieve  him.  In  this  liis  emer- 
gency, help  might  be  offered  to  him  which,  cordially 
accepted  and  used,  would  at  once  lift  him  out  of  his 
perilous  position.  But  it  depends  upon  himself  to  de- 
cide whether  or  not  he  will  employ  the  proffered  help. 
This  we  hold  to  be  a  true  type  of  the  condition  of 
man — of  that  helpless  and  hopeless  condition  into 
which  our  human  nature  was  reduced  by  the  fall  of  the 
first  Adam.  By  the  sinless  obedience,  sufferings,  and 
death  of  the  second  Adam,  the  needed  assistance  was 
procured.  And  there  it  is  in  exhaustless  abundance, 
and  in  eager  attendance  upon  our  wants.  Ere  we  feel 
the  full  need  of  it,  it  is  close  at  hand,  and  as  the  sup- 
plicating cry  is  raised  it  embraces  us  around.  It  is 
none  other  than  God's  Holy  Spirit,  the  Comforter  and 
Strengthener  of  the  faithful.  This  is  the  means  by 
which  God  draws  us  to  Christ.  In  the  economy  of 
Divine  grace  this  is  the  distribution  of  the  offices  which 
have  been  manifested  in  the  Godhead  for  accomplish- 
ing the  w^ork  of  man's  salvation.  By  the  death  of 
Christ  an  atonement  has  been  mnde  for  sin,  by  faith  in 
this  atonement  we  are  justified  before  God,  by  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Spirit  this  faith  is  made  a  vital  and 
saving  faith,  and  this  faith  it  is  which  drawls  us  to 
Christ. 

As  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  process  represented 
by  the  word  "draw,"  we  must  confess  that  we  are  not 
able  to  explain  it.  "The  wind  bloweth  where  it 
listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst 
not  tell  whence  it  cometh  or  whither  it  goeth ;  so  is 


THE   INFLUENCE    OF   DRaiSTE    GEACE.  441 

every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  The  effects  are 
all  that  our  limited  capacities  will  enable  us  to  detect 
and  describe.  No  man,  then,  is  drawn  by  force  or  out- 
ward violence  to  come  to  Christ.  The  believer  is  in- 
deed placed  by  the  Providence  of  God  in  a  locality 
where  he  can  hear  of  the  Gospel  and  come  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  means  of  grace.  This  mercy  is  vouchsafed 
to  him  in  a  great  measure  independently  of  his  own 
will.  And  why  God  should  thus  have  bestowed  the 
highest  spiritual  privileges  on  some,  while  others  are 
but  partially  supplied  with  them,  and  by  far  the  greater 
portion  of  the  human  race  totally  cut  off  from  them, 
is  a  question  which  no  human  wisdom  can  fathom,  and 
which  revelation  has  not  attempted  to  explain.  This 
is  the  only  absolute  and  unconditional  election  and 
re2orobation  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  and  we 
leave  the  question  as  one  which  it  would  be  presump- 
tion, if  not  impiety,  to  discuss.  But  when  one  is  born 
in  a  land  where  the  true  light  shineth,  and  when  his 
eyes  have  been  opened  to  it  so  that  he  can  perceive  it, 
then  it  is  at  his  own  option  to  walk  by  it,  or  else  to 
seek  darkness  rather  than  light  because  his  deeds  are 
evil.  God  has  drawn  him,  even  at  his  birth,  from  a 
land  of  heathenism,  and  placed  him  where  he  can  see 
Christ ;  but  yet  he  may  close  his  eyes  or  turn  them 
exclusively  upon  the  world,  and  thus  resist  the  privi- 
leges of  Divine  grace  with  which  he  has  been  favored. 
But  again  ;  as  there  is  no  compulsory  outward  force 
used  by  God  in  drawing  men  to  Christ,  so  is  there  no 
irresistible  internal  influence  employed.     It  is  without 


442  THE   HTFLUElSrCE    OF   DIVINE    GEACE. 

doubt  a  real  and  a  powerful  influence  whicli  the  Spirit 
of  God  exerts  upon  the  heart  of  every  converted  sin- 
ner ;  an  influence,  too,  without  which  repentance  could 
not  be  felt,  nor  faith  take  hold  of  the  promises,  nor 
obedience  be  practised ;  for  in  the  authorized  language 
of  the  Church,  "  we  have  no  power  to  do  good  works 
pleasant  and  acceptable  to  God,  without  the  grace  of 
God  by  Christ  preventing  us,  that  we  may  have  a  good 
will,  and  working  with  us,  when  we  have  that  good 
will."  But  then,  it  is  an  influence  which  may  be  re- 
sisted, and  is  constantly  resisted  by  sinful  men.  It 
strives  with  them,  expostulates  with  them,  and  when 
at  last  its  merciful  efibrts  are  hopeless,  it  grieves  at 
their  hardness  and  impenitence.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  when  successful,  it  is  because  the  will  of  man  has 
yielded  and  co-operated  with  it. 

Upon  this  truth  is  founded  that  earnest  exhorta- 
tion of  St.  Paul  to  the  Philippians,  "  Work  out  your 
own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling ;  for  it  is  God 
which  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his 
good  pleasure."  The  meaning  of  which  clearly  is,  God 
hath  given  you  j)ower  to  choose  and  to  act,  therefore 
use  this  power  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  given, 
namely,  to  secure  your  own  salvation.  Hence  it  fol- 
lows, that  the  operation  of  the  Holy  S^^irit  upon  the 
hearts  of  men  is  carried  on  in  perfect  consistency  with 
their  rational  and  accountable  nature.  The  mind,  the 
conscience  and  the  affections,  are  the  points  of  contact 
between  the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  recij)ient  of  Divine 
grace.     The  means  are,  truth  suggested  to  the  mind, 


THE   INFLUENCE    OF   DIVINE   GRACE.  443 

stings  of  guilt  rousing  up  the  sluggard  conscience,  and 
motives  of  love  applied  to  the  heart.  It  is  the  Spirit 
of  God  that  works  within  us,  but  this  Spirit  employs 
an  instrumentality  adapted  to  the  faculties  of  the  be- 
ing upon  which  it  is  to  exert  its  influence.  To  the 
sacraments,  also,  an  efficacy  is  communicated  in  the  same 
manner.  In  themselves,  even  the  holy  water  set  apart 
for  baptism,  and  the  consecrated  bread  and  wine,  can 
do  nothing ;  but  as  sanctified  means  of  grace,  they  con- 
vey the  influences  of  the  Spirit  to  those  who  truly  par- 
take of  them.  Thus,  then,  though  the  drawing  of  sin- 
ners to  Christ  is  a  real  work  of  God,  and  though  with- 
out this  drawing  they  would  never  come,  yet  in  the 
whole  process  there  is  no  violence  done  to  the  freedom 
of  the  will.  The  whole  scheme  of  the  Gos|)el  carries 
out  this  rational  princij)le,  and  whenever  it  speaks  to 
man  it  speaks  to  him  as  if  he  could  hear  or  forbear,  as 
if  he  could  answer  or  be  silent,  as  if  he  could  choose 
or  refuse,  as  if  he  could  come  or  stand  still.  There- 
fore, uj)on  every  man  it  rests  to  decide  whether  he  will 
be  saved  or  condemned,  and  he  cannot  escape  from  this 
responsibility.  No  vain  conceit  of  irresistible  decrees 
or  God's  foreknowledge  can  serve  to  excuse  him. 

The  question  of  how  man  can  be  free  to  accept 
Christ  or  reject  him,  when  God  foreknew  long  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world  what  he  would  do,  is  a 
question  with  which  we  have  no  practical  concern ;  it 
is  at  best  one  of  curious  speculation.  We  may  as  well 
try  to  conceive  how  God  can  be  every  where  at  once, 
here  and  in  the  remotest  star  that  shines,  and  upon 


444       THE  rNFLUENCE  OF  DIVIKE  GEACE. 

every  spot  of  every  orb  that  rolls  through  the  im- 
mensity of  space,  and  how  to  the  mind  of  God  things 
from  an  eternity  past  to  an  eternity  to  come,  are  at 
once  and  always  present,  as  try  to  understand  how 
God  has  foreseen  what  will  come  to  pass,  and  yet  left 
us  at  liberty  to  decide  for  ourselves  what  our  future 
destiny  shall  be.  Nothing  of  all  this  can  we  ever 
arrive  at  knowing,  and  for  this  obvious  reason,  that 
the  finite  can  never  compass  the  infinite.  What  God 
is  in  himself  we  cannot  know ;  certainly  not  in  this 
imperfect  state,  when  we  can  only  see  as  through  a 
glass  darkly.  What  God  is  in  his  relations  to  us  we 
ca7i  know,  for  the  Son  of  God  hath  revealed  them  for 
this  express  purpose.  To  us  he  is  a  merciful  God  and 
Father,  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all 
should  come  to  the  truth.  So  great  is  his  love  towards 
us  that  he  gave  us  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  who- 
soever believeth  in  him  shall  be  saved ;  and  he  hath 
sent  his  Holy  Sj)irit,  whose  special  ofi&ce  it  is  to  draw 
to  Christ  all  who  are  willing  to  yield  themselves  to  the 
dii'ectiou  of  spiritual  and  holy  influences. 

Thus  then  is  the  doctrine  of  our  text  simple  of 
practice,  however  difiicult  it  may  be  of  comprehension. 
When  we  read  that  no  man  can  come  to  Christ  except 
the  Father  draw  him,  we  must  ever  remember  that  the 
Father  actually  draws  all  who  are  willing  to  follow. 
Speculative  difiaculties,  therefore,  will  not  be  received 
as  an  excuse  for  practical  neglect.  Every  sinner  who 
shall  be  finally  lost  will  suffer  the  consequences  of  his 
own  rejection  of  the  terms  of  salvation.     The  invi- 


THE   rNTLTJENCE   OF   DIVHSTE    GEACE.  445 

tatiou,  come  unto  me  and  be  saved,  is  a  sincere  and 
honest  invitation,  as  it  is  a  merciful  and  affectionate 
one. 

See,  brethren,  tliat  ye  refuse  it  not,  to  your  own 
confusion  and  dismay  at  tlie  great  day  of  final  account. 
Now  is  your  day  of  grace.  The  pathway  to  heaven 
is  freely  and  clearly  open  before  you.  Opportunity, 
guidance  and  help  to  walk  therein — all  are  yours. 
And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride,  the  Spirit  of  God  and 
the  Church  which  he  hath  purchased  with  his  blood, 
say  come;  come,  journey  with  us  through  your  ap- 
pointed pilgrimage,  a  way  rough  and  thorny,  perhaps, 
beset  with  dangers,  and  often  darkened  by  clouds  ;  but 
we  are  with  you  to  guide  you  lest  you  stumble ;  to  lift 
you  up  being  fallen ;  to  shield  you  in  perils ;  to  be  a 
lamp  unto  your  feet  and  a  light  unto  your  path ;  to 
give  you  food  of  heaven,  blessed  sacraments,  lest  you 
faint ;  and  never  to  leave  you  unless  you  first  desert 
us,  until  we  pass  you  safely  through  the  grave  and  gate 
of  death,  and  place  you  in  joy  and  triumph  within  the 
walls  of  that  city  which  hath  no  need  of  the  sun, 
neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it,  for  the  glory  of  God 
doth  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  DEPENDENCE  UPON  GOD. 


Ephesians  VI.  10. 
"  My  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might." 

Self-dependence  is  an  important  princij^le  of 
action,  and  is  a  large  ingredient  in  all  those  charac- 
ters that  have  accomplished  great  and  noble  enter- 
prises. The  man  who  is  in  the  constant  habit  of 
looking  to  others  for  advice  and  direction,  and  seldom 
takes  comisel  of  his  own  independent  mind,  and  who 
always  leans  upon  the  assistance  of  others,  neglecting 
his  own  native  energies,  will  be  a  man  of  feeble  and 
fluctuating  purposes,  and  will  accomplish  little  that  is 
valuable  or  praiseworthy.  But  this  quality,  so  essen- 
tial to  us  in  carrying  on  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow- 
men,  becomes  dangerous  presumption  when  we  bring 
into  view  our  relation  to  God.  Upon  him  we  cannot 
rely  too  constantly,  in  him  we  cannot  trust  too  im- 
plicitly, to  his  advice  and  direction  we  cannot  be  too 
attentive   or   obedient.      This   distinction   should    be 


THE   CHEISTIAN's   DEPEIS'DENCE   TTPOIST   GOD.  447 

borne  in  constant  mind.  We  may  make  ourselves  as 
independent  as  we  please  of  our  fellow-men  ;  but  our 
dependence  upon  God  cannot  be  too  absolute.  These 
two  states  of  feeling  are  in  perfect  consistency  with 
each  other,  and  will  be  found  in  happy  union  in  every 
truly  dignified  and  well-regulated  character.  The 
fault  of  our  corrupt  nature,  however,  inclines  us  to 
be  too  regardless  of  our  Maker,  and  to  have  too  little 
reference  to  him  in  all  our  actions.  Most  im23ortant 
therefore,  and  apj^ropriate  at  all  seasons,  is  the  A2:)os- 
tle's  exhortation,  "  My  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord, 
and  in  the  power  of  his  might." 

In  the  portion  of  the  Epistle  immediately  preceding 
these  words,  he  had  been  delivering  earnest  persuasions 
to  purity  and  holiness  of  life,  and  more  especially  he 
had  been  enforcing  the  importance  of  relative  duties. 
But  as  he  well  knew  the  feebleness  and  frailty  of 
human  nature,  and  was  anxious  to  guard  the  Ephesians 
from  the  dangerous  error  of  trusting  to  it  for  strength 
to  discharge  the  various  obligations  of  their  Christian 
profession,  he  winds  up  his  admonitions  and  exhor- 
tations with  the  earnest  direction  —  "finally,  my 
brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  j^ower 
of  his  mio-ht."  To  illustrate  and  enforce  his  meaniuo: 
he  adopts  an  appropriate  figure,  and  recommends  to 
the  Christian  to  arm  himself  with  the  whole  panoply 
of  God.  Put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  the  girdle 
of  truth,  the  breastplate  of  righteousness,  the  sandals 
of  peace,  the  shield  of  faith,  the  helmet  of  salvation, 
and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 


448      THE  christian's  dependence  upon  god. 

Tlie  subject  of  my  discourse,  tlien,  as  drawn  from 
tlie  text,  will  be  tlie  dependence  of  the  Christian  upon 
hie  God  for  strength,  protection  and  safety  in  the  war- 
fare of  life. 

And  in  ihefii'st  place,  I  shall  consider  the  necessity 
of  relying  upon  the  Lord  for  our  strength,  and  trust- 
ing to  his  power  for  our  might. 

This  necessity  is  strongly  argued  by  the  Apostle 
from  the  situation  in  which  we  are  placed,  and  the  dif- 
ficulties and  dangers  we  have  to  encounter.  For  "  we 
wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  princi- 
palities and  powers, — against  the  rulers  of  the  dark- 
ness of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high 
places."  This  language  is  very  significant,  and  repre- 
sents in  a  forcible  manner  the  condition  of  man's  pro- 
bationary state.  "  We  wrestle."  Life,  when  regarded 
as  a  moral  discipline,  is  a  state  of  constant  exertion. 
In  other  places  it  is  represented  as  a  warfare  which  we 
are  ever  waging.  There  is  no  peace  or  repose  till  we 
have  secured  the  victory,  and  the  victory  is  not  secured 
till  we  have  triumphed  over  the  last  enemy,  and  the  last 
enemy  is  death.  Although  he  conquers  the  body,  yet 
in  the  very  act  the  soul  obtains  freedom  and  a  triumph. 
And  thus  our  unceasing  conflict  is  not  simply  against 
flesh  and  blood,  the  evils  of  our  corrupt  nature,  and 
the  sinful  liists  of  the  body,  and  the  temptations  and 
difiiculties  belonging  to  the  social  state ;  but  prin- 
cipahties  and  powers  are  in  league  against  us,  the 
rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world,  spiritual  wicked- 
ness in  high  places.     These  expressions  have  reference 


THE   CHKIS'ITANS    DEPENDENCE   UPON   GOD.        449 

to  our  great  enemy,  styled  by  way  of  eminence  tlie 
adversary  or  Satan.  He,  with  tlie  associated  evil 
spirits  broken  from  tbe  bottomless  j)it,  tbougli  invisi- 
ble, are  our  active  and  relentless  foes,  and  are  con- 
stantly watching  and  planning  for  our  destruction. 
Here  then  are  two  sources  of  danger,  flesh  and  blood, 
or  our  own  corruj)tions,  and  principalities  and  powers, 
or  the  kingdom  of  the  devil. 

Hence  the  necessity  for  our  reliance  uj^on  other 
strength  and  assistance  than  our  own.  And  who  is 
there  that  has  not  had  convincing  proof,  both  of  the 
reality  of  his  trials  and  his  incompetency  to  contend 
with  them  ?  Certainly,  that  man  who  has  not  can 
have  paid  but  little  attention  to  his  spmtual  state,  and 
must  have  been  regardless  of  his  moral  improvement. 
And  we  know  that  there  are  those,  and  we  fear  that 
they  are  not  few  in  number,  who  thus  go  through  life 
ignorant  of  its  real  design,  and  of  the  condition  upon 
which  we  hold  it.  They  look  upon  it  only  as  the 
scene  of  present  enjoyment,  or  at  best  as  the  place  of 
occupations  and  intellectual  improvements  which  ter- 
minate here.  When,  therefore,  all  goes  on  prosperously, 
they  are  joyous  and  unconcerned ;  but  when  sorrows 
and  disappointments  come,  they  are  cast  down,  or  blas- 
phemously array  themselves  against  the  proceedings 
of  Divine  Providence,  which  to  them  are  mysterious 
and  unkind.  Happy  for  them  if  adversity  corrects 
the  dangerous  mistakes  of  their  first  impressions,  and 
leads  them  to  a  juster  estimate  of  theii*  present  exist- 
ence and  a  more  adequate  knowledge  of  their  own 
29 


450         THE   CHEISTIA^'s   DEPEISTDENCE   UPON   GOD. 

weakness,  and  when  tliey  may  obtain  consolation  and 
assistance  in  the  time  of  need.  But  tliey  who  have 
been  rightly  instructed  from  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  are  wiser  and  better  prepared.  Con\dnced  that 
life  is  a  state  of  probation,  that  every  thing  which 
takes  place  in  this  world  is  designed  or  permitted  by 
a  wise  Providence  for  the  very  pur^^ose  of  disciplining 
the  spii-it  of  man  for  its  destined  immortality,  they 
are  neither  disheartened  nor  amazed  at  the  evils  of  life. 
Inevitable  sorrows  and  disappointments  they  receive 
with  submission  and  endure  with  patience  ;  but  temp- 
tations which  spring  up  from  their  own  corruj)tions,  or 
which  assault  them  from  without,  they  courageously 
resist.  And  they  do  not  engage  in  the  controversy 
without  the  comfortable  assurance  of  Divine  help  and 
protection.  Knowing  that  their  own  strength  is  per- 
fect weakness,  they  are  "  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might." 

Having  seen  the  necessity  of  this  aid  to  the  Chris- 
tian in  his  moral  controversy,  we  must  now,  in  the 
second 'place,  consider  more  particularly  what  is  implied 
in  it.  The  Christian  must  feel  that  the  Lord  is  the 
Source  of  the  knowledge,  the  courage  and  the  strength, 
by  which  he  is  to  succeed  in  his  controversies  with  sin. 
Now,  in  order  to  this  he  must  become  acquainted  with 
his  inward  and  spiritual  nature.  He  must  often  have 
conferred  with  it,  and  have  discovered  its  frailties,  its 
susceptibihties,  and  its  mighty  influences  for  good  or 
for  evil.  Most  men  are  wofully  deficient  in  this  re- 
spect.     Even   those   whose    education,  pursuits,   and 


THE   CHEISTIAn's    DEPENDENCE   UPON   GOD.        451 

habits  of  mental  discipline  have  lead  them  to  reflect 
upon  the  mind,  as  distinguished  from  the  material  sub- 
stance which  it  inhabits,  are  often  as  ignorant  of  the 
capabilities  and  the  wants  of  the  spiritual  nature  as 
the  most  uninformed  and  brutish  of  men.  For  all 
their  attention  has  been  directed  to  the  intellectual 
powers.  Now  these  may  be  cultivated  to  a  very  high 
degree,  and  yet  the  moral  qualities  of  the  soul  be 
suffered  to  lie  dormant,  as  it  were,  or  even  to  be  cor- 
rupted and  debased  by  the  grossest  sensuality. 

The  perfection  of  our  nature  requii'es  that  both  the 
intellectual  and  the  moral  faculties  should  be  culti- 
vated to  the  utmost  extent,  and  that  while  the  mind 
is  strengthened  and  refined  by  all  knowledge,  the  re- 
ligious and  social  affections  should  be  renewed  and 
purified  by  Divine  grace,  and  be  devoted  in  love  and 
duty  to  their  appropriate  objects,  God  and  our  fellow- 
men.  But  if  we  are  to  make  a  distinction  and  institute 
a  comparison  between  these  constituent  parts  of  our 
being,  we  must  of  course  assert  that  the  moral  faculties 
are  inconceivably  the  most  important,  and  should 
receive  by  far  the  most  assiduous  attention.  For  as 
to  intellect,  as  its  operations  have  chief  reference  to 
the  present  world,  we  know  not  but  that  the  mode  in 
which  we  exercise  its  powers  may  terminate  here, — we 
know  not  but  that  its  present  discipline  may  be  with- 
out value  in  another  world, — we  know  not  but  that 
then  all  knowledge,  and  degrees  of  knowledge  greater 
than  we  can  now  conceive  of,  may  come  by  intuition. 
I  do  not  assert  this.     I  only  say  that  we  have  no  evi- 


452      THE  cheistian's  dependence  upon  god. 

dence  to  the  contrary.  Whereas  as  it  relates  to  the 
moral  faculties,  we  are  fully  assured  that  these  are  to 
be  exercised  in  another  world ;  we  are  assured  that  the 
design  of  the  present  state  of  existence  was  to  afford 
opportunity  for  their  development  and  their  improve- 
ment ;  and  we  are  assured,  moreover,  that  our  happi- 
ness or  misery  beyond  the  grave  depends  upon  the 
use  we  have  made  of  them  here. 

And  yet  if  these  be  truths,  and  certainly  no  be- 
Hever  in  the  Gospel  can  deny  that  they  are  so,  how 
utterly  inconsistent  with  them  is  the  conduct  of  men 
in  general.  See  what  devotion,  what  unwearied  pains 
they  bestow  upon  the  discipline  of  the  mind,  how  little 
in  comparison  to  the  cultivation  of  the  rehgious  and 
social  affections  of  the  heart.  See  how  anxious  parents 
are  that  every  intellectual  j^ower,  and  every  physical 
grace  even,  should  receive  its  due  attention,  and  what 
sums  of  money  are  lavished  for  these  purposes,  and  yet 
the  soul,  which  is  to  live  for  ever,  is  almost  unthought 
of  and  uncared  for. 

But  these  reflections,  important  as  they  are  in  them- 
selves, are  rather  di'awing  me  from  the  special  point  I 
have  in  view,  which  was  to  show  that  the  Christian  was 
to  look  to  the  Lord  for  dii'ection  and  assistance  in  car- 
rying on  the  discipline  of  his  spiritual  nature.  But  in 
order  to  feel  the  full  force  of  this  declaration,  as  I  said, 
he  must  be  much  conversant  with  this  the  most  imj)or- 
tant  and  noble  part  of  his  being.  Then  will  he  learn 
how  frail  it  is,  how  exposed  to  the  seductions  of  the 
world  in  various  forms,  how  easily  made  to  forget  its 


453 


frlorioiis  orisfin  and  destination.  It  sliould  be  ever  as- 
piling  npward,  shaking  off  the  encumbrances  of  the 
flesli,  beating  down  and  trampling  under  tlie  devices 
of  Satan.  But  alas !  how  neglectful  are  most  men  of 
their  spiritual  discipline ;  and  this  not  simply  because 
they  do  not  direct  their  thoughts  to  its  requisitions, 
but  principally  because  they  are  not  sensible  of  their 
own  wants  and  their  own  weakness.  Once  convince  a 
man  of  what  the  Gospel  requires  from  him — show  him 
the  perfection  of  God's  law,  and  how  it  requires  him 
to  love  and  serve  his  Maker,  to  purify  his  motives  of 
action,  to  live  superior  to  the  world,  to  have  reference 
to  his  future  and  eternal  being — and  let  him  compare 
his  actual  condition  with  these  clear  and  positive  de- 
mands, then  he  will  be  convinced  of  his  awful  delin- 
quencies, he  will  feel  that  he  is  far,  very  far,  from  the 
kingdom  of  God.  In  this  state  of  sin  and  helplessness 
to  which  he  will  find  himself  reduced,  how  consoling 
will  he  the  promises  of  help  from  above  ;  how  anxious- 
ly will  he  desire  to  "  be  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might." 

Brought  to  this  condition,  he  will  naturally  demand, 
how  is  he  to  seek  for  this  strength  from  the  Lord,  and 
in  what  manner  will  the  Lord  vouchsafe  to  communi- 
cate it  to  him.  I  reply,  that  he  must  seek  it  in  devout 
prayer  and  in  an  assiduous  use  of  the  appointed  means 
of  grace.  These  are  the  methods  of  God's  own  ap- 
pointment. He  will  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that 
ask  him.  Prayer  is  the  very  language  of  weakness  and 
dependence,  and  if  these  sentiments  are  not  deeply 


454         THE   CHEISTIAn's   dependence   UPOlSr    GOD. 

felt,  supplication  is  a  mockery.  We  must  come  to 
God  not  only  believing  tliat  he  is,  and  that  he  is 
the  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him,  but 
we  must  come  to  him  confessing  our  own  inability 
to  aid  ourselves,  and  sinking  as  it  were  under  a  con- 
sciousness of  our  helpless  state.  Prayer  will  never  be 
humble,  earnest,  persevering — and  these  qualities  are 
essential  to  its  efficacy— until  it  arises  from  a  heart 
bowed  down  before  Jehovah  and  utterly  submissive 
and  dependent.  And  because  prayer  does  not  partake 
of  these  characteristics,  it  is  so  often  ineffectual,  and 
availeth  little.  Men  pray  with  formality,  with  cold- 
ness, to  fulfil  a  stated  duty,  to  acquit  themselves  of  a 
certain  undefined  sense  of  obhgation,  or  perhaps  through 
fear,  and  the  influence  of  a  servile  spiiit.  But  all  such 
oblations  are  vain.  Such  an  exercise  does  not  give 
strength  of  itself,  nor  does  it  call  down  help  from 
above.  But  prayer  ardent,  opens  heaven,  and  lets 
down  a  stream  of  glory  on  the  consecrated  hour  of 
man  in  close  communion  with  his  God.  Prayer  perse- 
vering, and  that  speaks  the  sentiments  of  humility  and 
dependence,  is  not  only  answered  by  direct  communi- 
cations from  the  throne  of  grace,  but  its  very  use  in- 
vigorates the  inner  nature  and  enables  us  to  fight  man- 
fully the  good  fight  of  faith. 

Thus  also  with  the  other  means  of  grace,  and  es- 
pecially the  Supper  of  our  Lord.  A  faithful,  spiritual, 
and  constant  use  of  it,  will  communicate  to  the  devout 
participant  all  needed  strength  for  the  manifold  labors 
and  self-denials  of  the  Christian  Hfe.     For  this  especial 


THE    CHKISTIAn's   DEPENDENCE   UPON   GOD.         455 

purpose  was  it  appointed.  It  is  the  Christian's  feast, 
in  which  he  commemorates  the  dying  love  of  the  Re- 
deemer ;  it  is  the  Christian's  food,  hj  which  his  soul 
receives  nutriment  and  strength.  But  how  can  he 
truly  rejoice  in  the  past,  unless  he  hath  experienced  his 
want  of  a  Redeemer ;  how  can  he  gain  spiritual  strength 
from  the  food,  unless  he  partakes  of  it  with  a  spiritual 
mind  ? 

I  exhort  you,  therefore,  brethren,  to  engage  in 
prayer  and  the  other  ordinances  of  religion,  not  only  as 
humble  and  contrite  sinners,  but  under  a  solemn  sense 
of  your  own  weakness  and  dependence.  Thus  alone 
can  you  derive  from  them  any  real  benefits.  If  you 
approach  in  a  cold  and  lifeless  manner,  and  without  a 
realizing  sense  of  your  own  spiritual  wants  and  weak- 
ness, close  the  lips  about  to  be  opened  in  prayer,  draw 
back  the  footsteps  ere  they  come  nearer  to  the  Holy 
Table.  Such  exercises  are  not  designed  for  you ;  they 
will  not  contribute  to  your  peace  and  consolation ;  they 
will  not  be  acceptable  offerings  to  your  God.  Nay, 
will  they  not  call  down  uj)on  you  his  just  condemna- 
tion ?  But  if  you  have  examined  your  spiritual  condi- 
tion, and  understand  and  feel  it  aright ;  if  you  have 
pondered  the  law  of  God,  and  know  what  he  requires 
of  you ;  if  you  have  put  in  mournful  contrast  with  its 
perfections,  your  own  manifold  delinquencies ;  if  you 
have  felt  how  powerless  you  are  in  your  own  strength ; 
how  defenceless  in  the  presence  of  temptation ;  and  if 
you  wish  for  the  arm  of  the  Almighty  to  sustain  you, 
and  his  shield  to  cover  you,  then  di'aw  nigh  in  faith, 


456        THE   christian's   DEPETJDElSrCE    UPON    GOD. 

oj^en  the  lips  for  tlie  utterance  of  heartfelt  prayer,  ap- 
proach the  table  which  the  Lord  bountifully  prepares 
before  you,  and  in  these  exercises  you  shall  joyfully 
experience  that  you  are  daily  becoming  strong  in  the 
Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might. 


\ 


THE  NECESSITY  OE  CHRIST'S  DEATH. 


Luke   xxiy.    26. 

"  Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter  into  his 
glory?" 

"  A  MAN  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  witli  grief ! " 
This  is  the  language  pronounced  by  Isaiah,  when  with 
prophetic  eye  he  looked  into  futurity,  and  beheld  the 
humiliation,  the  sufferings,  and  the  death  of  the  Messiah. 
And  surel}^,  my  brethren,  the  holy  Evangelists  have  re- 
lated enough  concerning  the  scenes  through  which  our 
blessed  Saviour  passed  while  he  was  on  earth,  to  estab- 
lish the  accuracy  of  this  language  in  its  fullest  extent. 
His  life  was  indeed  a  life  of  sorrow,  and  grief  was  his 
familiar  companion  through  every  step  of  its  progress. 
And  the  circumstances  of  his  death  were  more  cruel 
and  appalling  than  aU  the  scenes  of  suffering  which  his 
life  exhibited.  These  have  been  presented  to  you  this 
day  in  the  holy  offices  of  our  Church.  When  we  con- 
template the  Son  of  God  resigning  the  glory  which  he 


458  THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEIST's    DEATH. 

possessed  before  tlie  foundation  of  tlie  world,  conde- 
scending to  unite  himself  to  our  nature  in  its  humblest 
form,  and  when  we  attend  him  through  the  various 
scenes  of  his  passion,  and  at  last  behold  him  expiring 
upon  the  cross,  does  not  the  question  sometimes  arise, 
why  should  it  be  necessary,  in  the  counsels  of  Divine 
wisdom,  that  the  salvation  of  mankind  should  be  thus 
accomplished  ?  Could  the  Deity  have  restored  a  fallen 
race  to  his  favor  upon  no  other  condition  than  the 
sacrifice  of  his  only  begotten  Son  ?  Did  it  require  a 
life  of  humiliation  and  distress,  and  a  death  of  igno- 
miny and  anguish  from  one  of  unblemished  righteous- 
ness to  procure  for  us  pardon  and  reconciliation  ? 

Upon  such  subjects  it  becomes  us  to  repress  a  curi- 
osity which  must  still  exist  in  vain.  It  is  sufficient 
that  the  wa}^  of  salvation  is  made  known  to  us.  When 
we  are  satisfied  that  it  is  clearly  revealed,  we  are  bound 
to  accept  it  with  humility  and  gratitude.  But,  al- 
thouo-h  it  would  be  inconsistent  with  Christian  humil- 

o 

ity  for  us  to  inquire  whether  any  other  mode  of  salva- 
tion could  be  devised,  yet  we  are  not  restricted  from 
showing,  as  far  as  our  limited  capacities  can  compre- 
hend it,  that  the  one  by  the  suffering  and  death  of 
Christ  is  wisely  ordained.  I  shall  naturally  be  led  to 
do  this  l)y  the  words  which  I  have  selected  for  the 
ground  of  my  discourse. 

They  were  spoken  by  our  Sa^dour  to  two  of  his 
disciples  after  his  resurrection.  As  they  were  journey- 
ing towards  Emmaus,  and  conversing  by  the  way,  of 
the  wonderful  things  that  had  recently  happened  in 


THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEISt's   DEATH.  459 

Jerusalem,  Jesus  joined  liiinself  to  tlieir  company  as  a 
stranofer  and  said,  "  What  manner  of  communications 
are  tliese  tliat  ye  Lave  one  to  another,  as  ye  walk, 
and  are  sad  ? "  Tliey  are  surprised  at  his  ignorance  of 
what  was  at  that  time  a  subject  of  universal  attention. 
"  Art  thou  only  a  stranger  in  Jerusalem,  and  hast  not 
known  the  things  which  are  come  to  pass  in  these 
days  concerning  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  was  a 
prophet  mighty  in  deed  and  in  word  before  God  and 
all  the  people,  and  how  the  chief  priests  and  our  rulers 
delivered  him  to  be  condemned  to  death,  and  have 
crucified  him  ?  But  we  trusted  that  it  had  been  He 
which  should  have  redeemed  Israel."  When  we  saw 
the  great  miracles  which  he  performed,  and  heard  the 
wisdom  of  his  instructions,  we  thought  surely  it  was  that 
great  Person  whom  we  expect  as  our  Messiah,  but 
now  our  hopes  are  entirely  destroyed;  he  has  been 
crucified  by  our  chief  priests  and  rulers.  Then  he  said 
unto  them,  "  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all 
that  the  2:)rophets  have  sj)oken  !  Ought  not  Christ  to 
have  suftered  these  things  ? "  This  mode  of  interro- 
gating is  equivalent  to  a  direct  assertion,  and  imj^lies 
that  Christ  ouglit  to  have  suffered. 

Whence,  then,  arises  this  necessity  ?  In  the  first 
place,  because  ancient  prophecy  foretells  a  suffering 
Messiah ;  and  secondly^  because  suftering  and  death 
were  necessary  to  accomplish  the  objects  of  Christ's 
mission.  These  are  the  two  positions  to  the  illustra- 
tion of  which  your  attention  is  now  requested. 

I.  It  is  well  known  that  the  principal  ground  on 


460  THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEISt's   DEATH. 

wliich  the  Jews  objected  to  Jesus  Christ  as  their 
Messiah  was,  that  he  appeared  without  any  of  those 
ensigns  of  temporal  power  and  splendor  w^hich  they 
had  been  taught  to  expect.  Accustomed  always  to 
receive  communications  from  God  attested  by  circum- 
stances of  awe  and  magnificence,  they  despised  the  re- 
puted son  of  the  carpenter.  They  had  been  dehvered 
from  the  bondage  of  Egy[3t  by  signs  and  wonders,  by 
a  mighty  hand  and  an  outstretched  arm,  their  law  was 
promulgated  from  a  mountain  that  might  not  be 
touched,  that  burned  with  fire,  and  was  surrounded 
with  blackness  and  darkness  and  tempest,  and  the 
voice  that  spoke  was  accompanied  with  the  sound  of  a 
trumpet  and  with  mighty  thunderings.  The  visible 
presence  of  God  had  dwelt  with  them  in  the  first  tab- 
ernacle, and  in  the  temple.  The  land  of  Canaan  had 
been  preserved  to  them  by  many  and  extraordinary 
interpositions.  In  short,  their  whole  history  was  a 
grand  display  of  Almighty  power.  It  seems,  then, 
hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  that  they  should  misunder- 
stand the  prophecies  of  the  spmtual  kingdom  and  glo- 
ries of  the  Messiah,  and  suppose  them  to  refer  to  tem- 
poral glories  and  to  an  earthly  kingdom  that  was  to 
be  established. 

On  this  principle  are  we  to  explain  the  remarkable 
fact,  that  the  Jews  rejected  Jesus  as  their  Messiah  on 
account  of  the  mean  and  suffering  condition  in  which 
he  appeared,  although  their  projohecies  clearly  foretell 
that  such  was  to  be  his  state  while  he  lived  on  earth. 
In  the  Son  of  David  they  expected  a  mighty  conqueror, 


THE   NECESSITY   OF    CHEISt's   DEATH.  461 

wlio  should  prove  himself  to  be  the  Messiah  by  exert- 
ing a  supernatural  power  against  the  nations  who  held 
them  in  subjection,  and  by  extending  the  Jewish  em- 
pire over  the  world.  When,  therefore,  he  acknowl- 
edged that  his  was  not  an  earthly  kingdom,  and  when 
the  humility  of  his  appearance  and  the  meekness  of 
his  doctrine  was  observed,  and  above  all,  when  it  was 
known  that  he  was  condemned  and  executed  as  a  male- 
factor, then  even  the  Aj)ostles,  who  had  been  witnesses 
to  his  mighty  works,  almost  lost  their  confidence  in 
their  Master. 

But  how  little  cause  the  Jews  had  to  exjDect  mili- 
tary exploits,  miraculous  victories,  and  a  Messiah  in- 
vested with  earthly  splendor,  let  their  own  prophe- 
cies declare.  We  need  go  no  farther  than  the  53d 
chapter  of  Isaiah.  There  the  Messiah  is  represented 
as  having  "  no  form  nor  comeliness,"  and  when  he  is 
seen  there  is  no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  him.  In 
consequence  of  this  it  is  foretold  that  he  shall  be 
"  des23ised  and  rejected  of  men,  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief."  Those  to  whom  he  is  sent 
shall  "  hide  their  faces  from  him  and  shall  despise  him." 
The  prophet  then  goes  on  to  give  the  reason  of  all  this 
suffering.  "  Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  car- 
ried our  sorrows ;  yet  we  did  esteem  him  stricken, 
smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted.  But  he  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities, 
the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him ;  and  with 
his  stripes  we  are  healed.  All  we  like  sheep  have 
gone  astray;  we  have  turned  every  one  to  his  own 


462  THE   NECESSITY   OF    CHEISt's   DEATH. 

way ;  and  tlie  Lord  hatli  laid  on  liim  the  iniquity  of 
us  all."  Having  thus  given  the  reason  why  he  was  to 
be  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief,  the 
prophet  proceeds  to  point  out  some  circumstances  of  his 
life  and  death  with  a  particularity  that  has  the  appear- 
ance of  history.  "  He  was  oppressed  and  afflicted,  yet 
he  opened  not  his  mouth.  He  is  brought  as  a  lamb  to 
the  slaughter,  and  as  a  sheej)  before  her  shearers  is 
dumb  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.  He  was  taken  from 
prison  and  from  judgment.  He  was  cut  off  out  of  the 
land  of  the  living.  And  he  made  his  grave  with  the 
wicked  and  with  the  rich  in  his  death."  And  yet  he 
had  done  no  violence,  neither  was  any  deceit  in  his  mouth. 
The  principal  ground  of  objection  that  might  be 
raised  against  all  this  would  seem  to  be,  that  it  is  so 
literal  and  particular  as  to  give  room  for  suspicion  that 
it  is  rather  a  history  interpolated  after  the  events  had 
taken  place  than  a  prophecy  delivered  seven  hundred 
years  before  them.  But  this  objection  is  instantly  re- 
moved by  considering  that  the  Jews,  the  great  enemies 
of  Christ,  were  the  very  j)ersons  to  whom  the  preser- 
vation of  this  prophecy  was  intrusted,  and  that  they 
acknowledge  it  to  be  genuine.  "  Ought  not  Christ 
then  to  have  suffered,"  to  fulfil  all  that  was  j)redicted 
concerning  him?  The  Apostles,  indeed,  did  not  an- 
ticipate this  event.  They,  in  common  with  their  coun- 
trymen, had  fallen  into  a  gross  error  respecting  the 
character  of  the  Messiah  and  the  objects  of  his  mission. 
They  had  adhered  to  the  cause  of  their  Master  con- 
stantly, expecting  that  he  would  declare  himself  king, 


THE   NECESSITY   OF   CHEIST's   DEATH.  463 

and  assume  his  authority  with  irresistible  power.  But 
no  sooner  was  he  apprehended  by  the  chief  priests  and 
rulers,  than  they  all  forsook  him  and  fled.  Although 
they  might  love  him  as  a  man  and  feel  interested  in 
his  fate,  yet  they  had  relinquished  all  their  hopes  in 
him  as  the  Messiah.  "  We  trusted,"  said  they,  "  that 
it  had  been  he  who  should  redeem  Israel." 

Our  Saviour,  therefore,  explained  to  them  the  rea- 
son of  those  occurrences  that  had  overcome  their  faith. 
He  removed  the  film  of  prejudice  from  their  eyes  and 
showed  that  Christ  ouo-ht  to  suffer  these  thinsrs.  This 
he  did  by  appealing  to  the  proj^hecies,  and  proving 
from  them  that  the  events  which  had  taken  place  were 
not  only  foreordained,  but  foretold.  "  And  beginning 
at  Moses  and  the  proj^hets,"  says  the  Evangelist,  in  the 
verse  succeeding  my  text,  "he  expounded  unto  them 
in  all  the  Scriptures  the  things  concerning  himself." 
What  the  j^articular  passages  of  Scripture  were  that 
Jesus  Christ  adduced  to  satisfy  the  minds  of  his  de- 
jected and  faithless  disciples,  we  are  not  informed.  But 
in  speaking  of  the  necessity  of  his  sufferings  and  death, 
we  cannot  suppose  that  the  important  passage  of  Isaiah 
w^hich  has  just  occupied  our  attention  was  omitted. 

Thus,  then,  do  we  see  that  there  was  no  reason  for 
objecting  to  Jesus  as  the  Messiah  because  his  condition 
while  on  earth  was  mean,  his  life  a  life  of  suffering  and 
distress,  and  his  death  ^^olent  and  io-nominious.  For 
the  very  books  which  teach  us  to  expect  him,  teach  us 
also  that  when  he  comes  he  will  be  without  form  and 
comeliness,  he  will  be  despised  and  rejected,  he  will  be 


464  THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEISt's   DEATH. 

brought  as  a  lamb  to  tlie  slaughter,  he  will  be  num- 
bered with  transgressors,  and  will  be  cut  off  out  of  the 
land  of  the  living. 

II.  Our  second  position  was,  that  suffering  and 
death  were  necessary  to  accomplish  the  objects  of 
Christ's  mission.  We  do  not  mean  necessary,  in  an  ab- 
solute sense,  for  we  dare  not  say  that  the  all-powerful 
God  could  not,  had  he  pleased,  have  adopted  some  other 
mode  of  revealing  his  will,  and  of  reconciling  sinners 
to  himself.  But  as  far  as  we  are  able  to  comprehend 
what  was  to  be  done  in  the  great  work  of  redemption, 
the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ  were  necessary,  as 
being  the  means  best  calculated  to  accomplish  it.  This 
will  apj)ear  from  considering  him  as  the  Founder  of  a 
new  religion,  a  Teacher  of  morality,  an  Example  for  the 
imitation  of  mankind,  and  a  Redeemer  of  the  world. 

1.  As  the  Founder  of  a  new  religion^  the  sufferings 
and  death  of  Christ  afford  the  strongest  possible 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  his  commission  from  heaven. 
Had  he  appeared  invested  with  the  ensigns  of  tempo- 
ral ]oower,  and  proclaimed  himself  a  king  in  the  sense 
in  which  the  Jews  expected  their  Messiah,  what  an 
irresistible  argument  might  have  been  brought  against 
his  religion  ?  It  would  not  have  been  thought  won- 
derful that  many  should  range  themselves  under  his 
standard  from  interested  motives,  and  many  more 
through  fear  of  his  power.  But  no  such  objection  as 
this  can  be  advanced  against  Christianity.  Its  Author 
was  born  in  poverty  and  obscmity.  During  his  life 
he  possessed  nothing  to  allure  the  worldly-minded ;  he 


THE   NECESSITY   OF   CHKIST  S   DEATH.  4(35 

himself  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  and  those  who 
became  his  followers  voluntarily  exposed  themselves 
to  a  life  of  toil,  of  want  and  danger.  He  lived  de- 
spised and  rejected,  and  died  the  death  of  a  malefactor. 
Notwithstanding  all  these  impediments,  as  they  would 
seem  in  all  human  probability,  to  the  influence  of  his 
doctrine,  it  spread  with  a  rapidity  unparalleled,  and  in 
three  hundred  years  the  religion  of  the  crucified  Jesus 
became  the  established  religion  of  the  empire  which 
then  swayed  the  world.  Who  can  account  for  this 
but  upon  the  supposition  that  it  is  the  religion  of  God, 
whose  hand  upheld  it  against  the  prejudice  and  hatred 
of  the  Jews,  the  wisdom  and  ingenuity  of  the  Greeks, 
and  the  combined  efforts  of  the  rulers  of  the  world  ? 
Christ  then  suffered  to  establish  his  religion  upon  evi- 
dence, which,  although  many  may  gainsay  and  resist, 
yet  none  can  overthrow. 

2.  If  we  consider  our  Saviour  as  a  Teacher  of  mo- 
rality^  the  propriety  of  his  appearing  in  a  suffering 
state  will  be  further  evident.  Had  he  come  encircled 
with  the  attractions  of  power  and  wealth,  how  many 
would  have  been  subservient  to  him,  but  how  few 
would  have  embraced  his  precepts  from  the  heart  ? 
Showing  himself  as  he  did  in  some  of  the  lowest  cir- 
cumstances of  human  fortune,  there  was  nothing  to 
give  currency  to  his  precepts  but  their  internal  excel- 
lence. Had  he  possessed,  too,  the  abihty  to  reward 
his  followers  with  temporal  honors,  what  an  encourage- 
ment would  have  been  given  to  hypocrisy.  But  as  it 
was,  the  love  of  virtue  and  truth  could  be  the  only 
30 


466  THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEISt's   DEATH. 

motive  to  induce  any  one  to  rank  himself  as  the  disci- 
ple of  the  carjDenter's  son.  On  this  account,  then,  like- 
wise, Christ  ought  to  have  suffered. 

3.  But  as  nothing  enforces  precepts  like  example, 
how  important  was  it  that  the  teacher  should  be  a 
Pattern  for  the  imitation  of  those  whom  he  was  to  in- 
struct ?  Unless  then  our  Saviour's  life  had  been  diver- 
sified with  sufferings,  the  utility  of  his  example  would 
in  a  great  measure  have  been  destroyed.  What  great 
advantage  would  it  have  been  to  the  world  had  he 
lived  in  the  midst  of  pomp  and  grandeur  ?  The  kings 
and  rulers  of  the  earth  might  indeed  have  had  a  per- 
fect model  for  their  imitation,  but  it  would  have  been 
lost  upon  the  great  body  of  mankind.  Our  Saviour 
chose  a  manner  of  life  in  which  he  was  a  daily  and 
familiar  pattern  to  all  men  of  the  most  important  as 
well  as  most  difficult  virtues.  Observe  his  condescen- 
sion, his  disinterestedness,  his  delight  in  doing  good, 
his  indifference  to  worldly  enjoyment,  his  patience 
under  contempt,  his  meekness  under  persecution,  and 
his  perfect  resignation  under  the  bitterest  distress. 
These  are  vii'tues  which  we  are  all  called  to  practise 
during  our  pilgrimage.  To  assist  us,  then,  we  have 
the  example  of  our  Saviour,  and  the  assurance  that 
having  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows,  he 
knows  whereof  we  are  made,  and  remembers  we  are 
but  dust ;  and  having  been  himself  exposed  to  trial, 
will  succor  us  when  we  are  tempted. 

4.  There  is  one  more  reason  why  Christ  should 
suffer,  when  we  consider  him  in  the  character  of  Me- 


THE   NECESSITY    OF    CHEIST's   DEATH.  467 

deemer  of  the  world.  If  there  appear  to  us  any  dif- 
ficulty in  believing  tliat  lie  has  offered  liis  life  a  ran- 
som for  sinners,  let  us  remember  that  this  is  entirely 
a  subject  of  revelation.  No  similar  transaction  has 
ever  occurred  by  which  we  can  measure  its  propriety, 
or  explain  its  nature.  Let  reason  then  approach  it 
with  awe  and  humility.  Sufficient  be  it  for  us,  when 
the  thought  suggests  itself,  why  ought  Christ  to  have 
suffered, — to  know  that  Scripture  says,  "He  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our 
iniquities  ;  that  by  his  stripes  we  are  healed  ;  that  the 
Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all ;  that  he 
is  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world;  that  God  hath  sent  him  forth  to  be  a  pro- 
pitiation through  faith  in  his  blood  ;  that  he  hath  once 
suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might 
brmg  us  to  God."  These  are  the  words  of  Scripture, 
and  if  words  have  a.ny  meaning,  they  can  mean  nothing 
less  than  that  doctrine  which  the  Church  explicitly  de- 
clares, that  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  suffer  death 
upon  the  cross  for  our  redemption,  and  that  he  made 
there  a  full,  perfect  and  sufficient  sacrifice,  oblation  and 
satisfaction  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 

No  one  can  show  that  the  doctrine  of  atonement 
is  inconsistent  with  the  character  and  attributes  of 
God.  We  do  not  deny  that  it  has  difficulties ;  but 
humble  faith  will  believe  and  adore  the  grand  j^rinci- 
ple  of  that  revelation  given  to  us  by  Him  whose  ways 
are  in  the  great  deep,  and  whose  judgments  are  past 
finding  out.     I  say  the  grand  principle  of  that  revela- 


468  THE   NECESSITY    OF   CHEISt's   DEATH. 

tion — for,  annihilate  tlie  doctrine  of  atonement  by  tlie 
Wood  of  a  Redeemer,  and  you  strike  out  tlie  glorious 
sun  from  the  centre  of  the  universe.  All  is  dark,  and 
cold,  and  cheerless.  It  is  this  which  throws  light  upon 
the  clouded  path  of  the  sinner,  which  warms  his  heart 
with  pious  love,  and  which  cheers  him  with  the  well- 
grounded  hope  of  pardon  and  reconciliation.  Yes, 
blessed  Saviour,  it  is  the  death  which  this  Church  this 
day  celebrates  which  fills  us  with  ardent  love  for  thee, 
which  gives  us  undoubting  faith  in  the  pardon  of  our 
sins  through  thy  merits  and  intercession,  and  which 
inspires  us  with  the  brightest  anticipations  of  that 
future  glory  which  thou  hast  shed  thy  blood  to  pro- 
cure for  us !  What  words  can  express  our  gratitude  ! 
Thou  hast  redeemed  us  by  thy  blood.  For  this  cause 
at  thy  Name,  which  is  above  every  name,  every  knee 
shall  bow,  and  every  tongue  shall  confess  that  thou  art 
Lord,  to  the  glory  of  God  the  Father  !  And  we  will 
sing.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  which  was  slain  and  has  re- 
deemed us  unto  God  by  his  blood  ! 

You  have  thus  seen,  my  brethren,  that  the  reasons 
for  which  Christ  was  a  suffering  and  dying  Saviour, 
are  all  connected  with  your  everlasting  happiness. 
When  therefore  you  have  reflected  upon  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  passion  and  death ;  when  you  have 
followed,  him  from  his  agony  in  the  garden  to  the  time 
when  he  was  betrayed  by  the  deceitful  kiss  of  one  of 
his  followers,  seized  as  a  common  malefactor,  then 
dragged  to  the  high  priests,  deserted  by  all  his  friends, 
and  wantonly  beaten,  insulted,  spit  upon,  carried  to 


469 


Pilate,  and  althongli  acknowledged  innocent,  yet 
scourged  as  if  guilty,  delivered  to  the  unprincipled 
soldiery,  and  mocked  witli  a  crown  of  thorns  and 
purple  robe, — nailed  to  the  cross  between  thieves,  his 
very  tortures  made  the  subject  of  cruel  insults, — when 
all  these  events  are  fresh  in  your  minds,  and  your 
hearts  are  softened  by  the  affecting  history ;  then  ask 
yourselves  why  was  it  that  the  meek  and  unoffending 
Jesus  was  thus  appointed  to  undergo  all  these  pains  ? 
Why  was  it  that  one  who  did  no  wickedness,  and  in 
whose  mouth  there  was  no  guile,  why  was  it  that  he 
suffered  Hke  the  most  abandoned  of  malefactors  ?  It 
was  for  thy  sins,  O  man !  For  thee  he  was  desj^ised 
and  rejected  ;  for  thee  he  was  made  a  man  of  sorrows, 
and  became  acquainted  with  grief !  for  thy  transgres- 
sion he  was  stricken, — the  chastisement  of  thy  sins 
was  upon  him,  and  by  his  stripes  thou  art  healed  ! 
I)o  we  realize  this  ?  When  we  read  of  the  sufferings 
and  death  of  Christ,  do  we  feel  that  he  suffered  and 
died  for  us  ?  Shall  we  not  then  abandon  those  sins 
which  could  be  washed  away  only  in  the  blood  of  that 
spotless  Lamb  which  was  slain  for  us,  and  shall  we  not 
live  more  to  him  who  died  for  us  ? 

Repentance  and  amendment  is  the  evidence,  and 
the  only  e\ddence,  that  we  feel  as  we  ought  the  solemn 
events  our  Church  this  day  celebrates.  We  may  be 
moved  with  compassion  at  the  spectacle  of  suffering 
innocence  and  injured  virtue ;  we  may  burn  with  in- 
dignation at  the  barbarity  and  insolence  of  wicked 
men.     But  these  are  not  the  only  emotions  which  the 


4Y0  THE   NECESSITY   OF   CHEIST's   DEATH. 

events  of  to-day  sliould  excite.  We  should  mourn 
and  lament  for  those  sins  whicli  first  put  to  deatli  tlie 
Son  of  God ;  we  should  be  filled  with  indignation  at 
those  transgressions  which  crucify  him  afresh  every 
time  we  commit  them.  It  matters  not  that  we  feel, 
except  this  feehug  permanently  affect  the  temper  of 
our  minds.  Retire,  then,  my  brethren,  from  the  house 
of  God,  and  take  into  your  hands  the  sacred  record 
of  the  passion  and  death  of  your  Saviour.  Regard  it 
well.  And  when  you  feel  sorrow  for  his  sufferings, 
look  into  your  own  hearts  for  the  cause  of  them.  For 
you  he  left  the  mansions  of  light  and  glory ;  for  you 
he  tabernacled  with  sinful  flesh ;  for  you  he  was  be- 
trayed, condemned,  put  to  death.  What  return  will 
you  make  for  this  love  ?  What  reward  will  you  give 
to  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  ?  He  asks  from  you 
none  but  to  accept  the  terms  of  salvation  which  he 
died  to  procure.  He  died  to  save  you,  and  your  salva- 
tion is  all  the  return  he  expects.  This  is  the  joy  which 
was  set  before  him,  for  which  he  endured  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame. 

Let  this  mind  be  in  you,  my  brethren,  which  was 
in  Christ  Jesus.  Seek,  by  penitence  and  prayer,  to 
have  a  reahzing  sense  of  your  entire  dependence  uj)on 
the  love  of  God,  who  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  to 
die  for  us  on  the  cross,  that  we  might  have  life,  and 
might  have  it  more  abundantly. 

Let  these  truths  be  present  with  you  when  you 
meditate  upon  the  transactions  of  this  day,  and  your 


THE   NECESSITY    OF    CHRISt's   DEATH.  47 1 

heart  will  be  melted ;  and  tears  of  mingled  grief  and 
penitence  will  flow,  and  you  will  say — 

"  For  me  these  pangs  his  soul  assail^ 
For  me  this  death  is  borne ; 
My  sins  gave  sharpness  to  the  nail, 
And  pointed  every  thorn. 

"  Let  sin  no  more  my  soul  enslave. 
Break,  Lord,  its  tyrant  chain ;, 
O  save  me,  whom  thou  cam'st  to  save, 
Nor  bleed,  nor  die  in  vain." 


NEITHER  RICHES  NOR  POVERTY  DESIRABLE. 


Peoveebs  XXX.  8,  9. 


"  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ;  feed  me  with  food  convenient 
for  me  ;  lest  I  be  full  and  deny  thee,  and  say,  "Who  is  the  Lord  ?  or  lest 
I  be  poor,  and  steal,  and  take  the  name  of  my  God  in  vain." 

A  ]\iEDiocEiTY  of  condition  lias  been  the  tlieme  of 
praise  among  the  wise  and  good  of  all  ages.  It  has 
been  represented  as  a  state  eminently  favorable  to 
wisdom,  to  virtue,  and  to  happiness.  But  its  best  and 
highest  recommendation  may  be  found  in  the  words 
we  have  selected  for  our  text.  We  there  learn  that 
the  service  of  God  will  be  most  surely  and  ardently 
performed,  when  men  are  neither  hardened  by  the 
chilling  influences  of  poverty  on  the  one  hand,  nor  on 
the  other  tempted  to  pride  and  self-indulgence  by  ex- 
tensive wealth.  Fully  convinced  of  this  most  impor- 
tant and  salutary  truth,  Agur,  the  son  of  Jakeh,  pre- 
sents it  to  his  disciples  in  the  form  of  a  prayer.  He 
had  himself  been  accustomed  to  use  it  before   the 


NEITHEK   EICHES   NOR   POVERTY   DESIRABLE.       473 

Aliniglity,  and  it  is  recommended  to  tlieir  notice  and 
imitation.  Nor  is  it  less  deserving  our  serious  consider- 
ation, my  brethren.  We  know  not  who  Agur  was, 
nor  is  it  of  importance  that  we  should  inquire.  His 
words  are  those  of  wisdom  and  piety,  and  they  come 
to  us  invested  with  the  authority  of  inspiration. 

But  perhaps  we  may  be  at  first  startled  at  the 
apj)arent  paradox  contained  in  them.  To  be  preserved 
from  poverty  is  a  very  natural  petition.  But  how 
shall  we  be  induced  to  pray  against  riches, — riches  so 
essential  in  our  view  to  independence  and  to  happiness, 
and  presenting  such  powerful  means  of  being  useful  to 
oui'  fellow-creatm*es  ?  How  can  we  be  expected  to  ask 
of  God  to  withhold  these  from  us  ?  To  be  content 
and  resigned  if  we  are  deprived  of  them,  is  indeed  an 
acknowledged  duty.  But  we  are  all  ready  to  hazard 
the  dangers  and  temptations  which  follow  in  the  train 
of  wealth,  and  we  think  it  not  unreasonable  both  to 
labor  and  to  pray,  that  we  may  be  thus  tried. 

Our  text,  then,  requires  some  illustration ;  and  this 
illustration  it  is  my  design  to  offer  to  your  notice  at 
the  present  time.  To  rescue  the  words  of  Agur  from 
any  misconstruction,  we  observe. 

Firsts  That  the  opposite  conditions  of  poverty  and 
riches  are  supposed  to  exist,  and  are  therefore  essential 
to  the  present  constitution  of  things.  That  man  must 
be  entirely  ignorant  of  the  structure  of  civil  society, 
who  can  suppose  it  possible  to  do  away  the  distinctions 
created  by  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth,  or  if 
possible,  can  imagine  that  the  happiness  of  the  hiunan 


474      NEITHEE   EICHES   NOR   POVEETY   DESIEABLE. 

race  would  be  advanced  by  sucli  a  measure.  There 
always  liave  been,  and  there  always  must  be,  tlie  rich 
and  the  poor. 

The  irregular  distribution  of  the  goods  of  fortune 
has  sometimes  been  advanced  as  an  objection  to  the 
administration  of  Providence.  But  we  who  are  as- 
sured that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  and  that  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works,  feel  confident 
that  this  inequality  in  our  temporal  condition  arises 
not  from  any  defect  in  his  care  of  his  creatures.  The 
diversities  of  rank  form  a  part  of  the  wise  and  benevo- 
lent plan  of  Providence,  and  are  necessary  to  preserve 
the  order  and  well-being  of  society,  and  to  connect 
and  endear  mankind  to  each  other.  Opportunity  is 
thus  afforded  to  the  rich  of  exercising  charity  and 
compassion, — at  the  same  time  the  poor  may  practise 
faith  and  trust  in  God,  patience,  humility,  and  content- 
ment.    We  are  thus  led  to  observe, 

Secondly^  Upon  the  words  of  our  text,  that  al- 
though Agur  prays  for  mediocrity,  he  does  not  deny 
that  poverty  and  riches  are  both  capable  of  being 
turned  to  a  religious  account.  Were  this  not  the  case, 
we  might  indeed  with  justice  condemn  the  order  of 
Providence.  Did  wealth  of  necessity  render  its  pos- 
sessor proud  and  luxurious,  did  it  cause  him  always  to 
deny  God,  and  say,  who  is  the  Lord  ?  we  should  be 
constrained  to  look  upon  it  as  the  most  tremendous  of 
evils.  And  did  poverty  always  produce  an  irresistible 
temptation  to  steal,  and  to  take  the  name  of  God  in 
vain,  we  should  consider  this  a  thousandfold   worse 


NEITHER   RICHES   NOR   POVERTY   DESIRABLE-      475 

tlian  its  cruel  privations  and  sufferings.  But  this  is 
not  the  uniform  023eration  of  extremes  in  the  outward 
condition  of  men.  No ;  the  world  presents  to  us  noble 
and  redeeming  examples  of  kindness,  generosity,  hu- 
mility, devoutness,  and  every  ornament  of  morality, 
and  every  grace  of  piety,  in  close  connection  with  un- 
bounded affluence ;  and,  also,  it  shows  us  of  mild  con- 
tent and  pious  resignation  in  some  of  the  lowest  cir- 
cumstances of  human  fortune.  Were  the  bounty  of 
God  equally  bestowed  upon  all,  not  only  would  many 
of  the  most  amiable  virtues  be  unknown,  but  many  of 
the  most  delightful  feelings  of  the  human  heart  would 
lie  dormant.  Where  would  be  the  glowing  sensation 
which  springs  from  a  consciousness  of  having  relieved 
the  necessitous,  shared  our  bread  with  the  hungry, 
clothed  the  naked,  and  made  the  widow's  heart  to  sing 
for  joy  ?  And  where,  also,  would  be  the  dehght  of 
unburdening  a  grateful  heart  in  warm  thanks  to  a  kind 
benefactor,  and  the  more  calm  and  permanent  joy 
which  the  pious  poor  have  in  looking  forward  to  that 
future  reward  which  is  promised  to  a  patient  endurance 
of  affliction  ?  We  know  that  under  the  influence  of 
piety,  the  relations  of  rich  and  poor  are  some  of  the 
most  interesting  and  most  profitable  to  our  spiritual 
improvement.  While  the  hand  is  extended  to  afford 
relief  to  the  necessitous,  the  heart  is  softened  with  the 
purest  Christian  love,  and  it  swells  with  grateful  emo- 
tions to  that  Beins:  from  whom  alone  its  abundance  is  de- 
rived.  And  while  pious  poverty  receives  the  proffered 
bounty,  the  same  love  to  man  is  promoted  by  grati- 


4T6      NEITHEE   EICHES   NOE   POVEETY   DESIEABLE. 

tude  to  tlie  beneficent  individual,  and  the  same  piety 
by  tlie  consideration  tliat  it  is  God  who  sends  the  kind 
messenger  to  relieve  the  necessitous.  But  while  we 
thus  state  the  capabilities  of  the  two  opposite  conditions 
mentioned  in  our  text,  we  must  observe, 

Thirdly^  That  they  are  exposed  to  extraordinary 
temptations.  The  most  prominent  of  these  are  sug- 
gested by  Agur  in  his  prayer  for  mediocrity.  "  Lest  I 
be  full  and  deny  thee,  and  say,  "Who  is  the  Lord  ? "  Is 
it  not  the  tendency  of  worldly  success  to  produce  self- 
confidence  ?  Does  not  wealth  often  seduce  men  into 
pride,  and  ostejitation,  and  forgetfulness  of  God  ?  Why 
did  Moses  give  that  solemn  caution  to  the  people  of 
Israel  in  anticipation  of  their  future  prosperity  ? 
"When  thy  flocks  and  thy  herds  multiply,  and  thy 
silver  and  thy  gold  is  multiplied,  and  all  that  thou  hast 
is  multiplied,  beware  lest  thine  heart  be  lifted  up,  and 
thou  forget  the  Loi'd  thy  God,  and  say,  My  power  and 
the  might  of  my  hand  hath  gotten  me  this  wealth." 
The  great  prophet  knew  the  danger  attending  worldly- 
elevation.  He  knew  that  it  swelled  the  heart  of  man 
naturally  inclined  to  pride ;  that,  naturally  prone  to 
impiety,  it  prepared  him  the  more  readily  to  forget  his 
Maker. 

Nor  is  this  all ;  the  very  pleasures  which  wealth 
both  gives  us  the  means  and  places  us  in  the  way  of 
enjoying,  have  a  corrupting  influence.  They  debase 
the  mind,  and  fix  it  upon  earthly  and  sensual  gratifi- 
cations. And  riches  have  a  tendency  to  quench  the 
spu'it  of  charity.     This  may  at  first  appear  an  extra va- 


NEITHER   KICnES    NOR   POVERTY   DESIRABLE.       477 

gant  position,  tliat  the  love  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and 
tlie  desire  of  relieving  their  wants,  should  decrease  in 
proportion  as  the  ability  to  relieve  them  advances. 
But  it  is  no  less  true  than  wonderful  and  lamentable. 
Riches  elevate  their  possessor  in  the  most  important 
respects,  according  to  the  estimation  of  the  world, 
above  his  fellow  men.  His  equipage,  his  apparel,  the 
luxuries  of  his  table,  his  pursuits — all  these  cut  him 
off  from  sympathy  with  his  fellow-creatm*es,  except 
with  those  in  the  same  condition  of  life  with  himself. 
And  the  farther  we  are  removed  from  a  knowledge  of 
men,  and  their  sorrows  and  sufferings,  the  less  are  we 
inclined  to  pity  them.  The  self-indulgence  which 
wealth  too  often  produces,  not  only  hardens  the  heart 
against  the  feelings  of  human  woe,  but  also  disinclines 
it  to  any  of  those  sacrifices  and  self-denials  which  the 
Gospel  imposes  upon  its  disciples. 

"  How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into 
the  Kingdom  of  heaven,"  says  our  blessed  Lord,  moral- 
izing upon  the  conduct  of  the  rich  young  man  who  pre- 
ferred his  great  possessions  to  the  service  of  Christ. 
A  solemn  caution,  this,  to  the  sons  of  affluence.  It  is  by 
no  means  a  thing  impossible,  that  the  wealthy  should 
be  devout  members  of  the  Church  on  earth,  or  should 
receive  admittance  to  the  kingdom  above.  Far  be  it 
from  us  to  say  this.  But  we  must  affirm  the  words 
and  the  doctrine  of  our  Master,  and  say  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult, and  that  this  difficulty  should  rouse  those  who 
are  increased  in  this  world's  goods  to  tenfold  caution, 
lest  riches  become  to  them  a  temptation  and  a  snare ; 


478       NEITHEE   ETCHES   NOR   POVERTY   DESIRABLE. 

a  snare  to  catch  their  souls,  and  entangle  them,  and 
bring  them  into  the  power  of  the  destroyer,  like  the 
ill-fated  bird,  who  would  otherwise  mount  with  aspir- 
ing wings  and  cheerful  song  to  the  highest  heavens. 

Poverty  has  also  its  dangers.  "  Give  me  not  this," 
says  Agur,  "lest  I  be  poor,  and  steal,  and  take  the 
name  of  my  God  in  vain."  These  are  the  temptations 
of  extreme  poverty — to  steal,  and  take  the  oath  of 
perjury  for  a  reward.  But  we  are  liable  to  other  evil 
dispositions  when  deprived  of  that  portion  of  wealth 
which  we  esteem  necessary  to  our  comfortable  support. 
This  state  produces  in  those  who  have  not  true  piety 
to  sustain  them,  repinings,  envyings,  murmuring  against 
Providence.  The  sins  mentioned  in  our  text,  theft 
and  perjury,  though  perha]3S  more  heinous  conse- 
quences of  poverty,  are  not  so  frequent  as  these. 
Many  there  are  who  in  their  secret  hearts  covet  their 
neighbor's  possessions,  who  yet  would  shudder  at 
the  idea  of  unjustly  taking  them  from  him.  Yet 
we  must  remember,  "  thou  shalt  not  covet,"  is  a  sol- 
emn commandment.  And  He  who  sees  our  inmost 
thoughts  will  detect  our  transgressions,  though  they 
may  not  be  manifested  by  open  acts  of  violence  or 
deceit. 

Fourtlihj^  Are  we  not  prepared  now,  my  brethren, 
to  observe,  and  to  approve,  the  wisdom  and  piety  of 
Agur's  petition  ?  He  desires  to  be  equally  removed 
from  the  dangers  which  are  always  attendant  upon  ex- 
tremes in  life.  That  the  middle  course  is  the  course 
of  safety  and  happiness,  every  moralist,  poet,  and  phi- 


liTEITIIEE   EICHES   NOE   POVERTY   DESIRABLE.       4/0 

losoplier  has  affirmed,  and  no  man  of  reflection  can 
witliliold  liis  assent  from  tliis  position,  however  his 
conduct  in  eager  exertions  after  wealth  may  contradict 
it.  But  it  is  my  province  as  a  Christian  minister,  to 
declare  that  mediocrity  is  most  favorable  to  piety. 
Yes,  brethren,  this  is  the  truth  of  God's  Holy  Word. 
In  all  your  anxious  designs  and  laborious  efforts  to 
amass  wealth,  remember  that  you  are  not  by  this 
means  advancing  your  most  important  interests.  May 
we  not  say  that  you  are  rather  retarding  them.  You 
seek  for  wealth — the  whole  world  is  eno^as^ed  in  this 
common  pursuit.  We  declaim  not  against  this.  Per- 
haps the  universal  passion  was  necessary  to  induce  so 
many  to  go  forward  that  among  them  some  might  ob- 
tain the  happy  mediocrity.  Ah !  could  they  be  satis- 
fied with  this,  could  they  be  content  when  Providence 
had  moderately  blessed  their  basket  and  their  store, 
could  they  be  restrained  from  seeking  to  heap  them  to 
overflowing,  could  they  believe  that  beyond  a  compe- 
tency wealth  adds  not  to  our  earthly  happiness,  could 
they  be  convinced,  if  riches  increase,  not  to  set  their 
hearts  upon  the  fallacious  possession !  But  no ;  men 
will  not  be  thus  wisely  temperate  in  theii'  desires. 
Enough  must  be  increased  to  abundance,  and  abun- 
dance must  be  swelled  to  profusion,  and  even  profusion 
cannot  satiate  the  all-devouring  appetite. 

How  seldom  is  it  that  we  behold  a  dignified  and 
pious  abstinence  in  regard  to  worldly  accumulation ; 
how  seldom  do  we  witness  the  influence  of  Agur's  wise 
petition  in  the  conduct  of  hfe.     As  riches  are  compara- 


480      NEirilER   EICHES   NOE   POVEETY   DESIEABLE. 

tively  the  possession  of  but  a  limited  number  of  man- 
kind, the  great  multitude  must  of  course  be  striving 
after  mediocrity  only.  They  all  say,  in  commencing, 
they  shall  rest  contented  with  a  competency ;  but  set- 
ting aside  the  very  indefinite  meaning  of  the  word 
competency,  we  may  be  con^dnced  how  few  are  at 
heart  as  moderate  as  they  think  themselves,  by  observ- 
ino;  how  few  rest  satisfied  with  the  attainment  of  their 
first  desii'es.  One  acquisition  prepares  for  another,  and 
the  appetite  grows  with  that  it  feeds  upon. 

But  let  us,  my  brethren,  under  a  conviction  of  the 
declarations  of  the  Gospel,  that  wealth  is  as  deceitful 
as  it  is  uncertain,  let  us  resolve  that  our  best  thoughts, 
our  warmest  desires,  our  most  earnest  exertions,  shall 
be  given  to  the  durable  riches  and  righteousness.  Let 
us  determine  to  make  the  prayer  of  Agur  our  own. 
For  mediocrity  of  condition  alone  can  the  good  man 
pray.  Seriously  observe  this  truth,  my  brethren. 
The  Scriptures  give  you  no  authority  to  pray  for  riches. 
Their  whole  spirit  discountenances  such  a  petition.  If 
uttered,  it  will  be  heard  at  the  throne  of  grace  with  a 
holy  indignation.  If  complied  with,  it  will  be  in  the 
spirit  of  a  righteous  retribution.  And  if  he  pray  for 
wealth,  it  may  be  given  to  the  unhappy  blinded  mor- 
tal, but  it  shall  eat  like  a  canker  into  his  soul ;  it 
shall  cause  him  to  consume  days  of  painful  labor  and 
nights  of  anxious  thought ;  it  shall  detach  him  from 
every  generous,  every  noble  purpose ;  it  shall  keep  him 
grovelling  in  the  dust ;  it  shall  freeze  the  sympathies 
of  his  heart ;  and  he  shall  go  to  his  grave  unwept  and 


NEITHER   EICIIES    NOR   POVERTY   DESIRABLE.      481 

unhonored,  and  prodigality  sliall  scatter,  and  riotous 
extravagance  shall  consume,  liis  dearly  earned  and  long 
hoarded  treasures. 

But  he  who  prays,  and  praying,  lives  m  the  spirit 
of  his  prayer,  "  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches," 
he  shall  be  blessed  of  God,  and  honored  of  man.  If 
riches  increase,  and  they  may  increase  unto  profusion, 
still  they  will  not  disturb  the  equal  balance  of  his 
mind.  Estimating  according  to  their  just  value,  world- 
ly possessions,  he  was  satisfied  with  a  competency  and 
grateful  for  it.  And  now  that  his  cup  of  prosperity 
has  overflowed,  he  rejoices,  because  he  has  more  ex- 
tensive means,  not  to  advance  his  own  happiness,  but 
the  happiness  of  his  fellow-beings.  With  him,  wealth 
brings  no  additional  anxiety  but  the  anxiety  to  do 
more  good.  His  path  is  one  of  cheerfulness  and  joy, 
for  it  is  blessed  by  the  prayers  of  the  widow  and  the 
orphan.  Although  owning  earthly  treasures  and  dis- 
pensing them,  yet  his  chief  treasure  is  in  heaven ;  and 
when  summoned  to  leave  the  world,  he  goes  without 
painful  regrets.  His  name  is  honored,  and  his  memory 
revered  by  weeping  children,  who  emulate  his  virtues, 
and  aspu'e  to  the  happiness  which  he  has  taught  them 
to  look  to  as  their  chief  desii'e.  This  indeed  is  a  con- 
dition truly  to  be  desired,  but  how  seldom  attained. 

May  mediocrity  of  condition,  then,  be  ours  ! 
Should  it,  however,  be  poverty,  may  we  bear  it  with 
cheerful  and  pious  resignation.  Should  it  be  riches, 
may  we  sustain  it  with  holy  temperance  and  humility. 
But  should  the  prayer  of  Agar  be  answered  to  any  of 
31 


482       NEITHER   EICHES   NOR    POVERTY   DESIRABLE. 

US,  may  our  hearts  be  filled  witli  gratitude,  that  we 
are  in  the  condition  most  favorable  to  wisdom,  to 
peace,  to  virtue,  to  happiness,  and  above  all,  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  that  heavenly  temper  which  on  earth  is 
itself  wisdom,  and  peace,  and  virtue,  and  happiness, 
and  which,  in  the  kingdom  above,  is  the  temper  of 
angels  and  just  men  made  perfect  who  surround  the 
throne  of  God. 


OBEDIENCE  THE  TEST  OE  CHRISTIAN 
KNOWLEDGE. 


1  John  ir.  3. 

"  And  hereby  do  we  know  that  we  know  him,  if  we  keep  his  com- 
mandments." 

OsEDiEisrcE  was  constituted  by  our  blessed  Saviour 
the  test  of  our  love  for  Mm ;  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my 
commandments."  It  is  also  the  only  satisfactory  evi- 
dence of  our  knowledge,  as  tlie  Apostle  asserts  in  my 
text.  Indeed,  love  and  knowledge  can  in  no  other  way 
give  demonstration  of  tlieir  existence  and  efficiency. 
When  love  exhausts  itself  in  ardent  but  aimless  sensa- 
tions, and  when  knowledge  restricts  itself  to  the  regions 
of  speculation,  they  can  produce  no  result  that  will  be 
acceptable  to  God.  The  one  must  control  the  aflec- 
tions,  and  the  other  must  enlarge  and  regulate  the  un- 
derstanding, and  both  must  thus  gradually  bring  the 
whole  man  into  a  full  conformity  with  the  requisitions 
of  the  Gospel.  And  when  he  can  be  assured  that  in 
the  spirit  of  his  mind  and  in  his  outward  actions  he  is 


484  OBEDIENCE   THE   TEST  OF 

manifesting  this  conformity,  tlien  may  lie  believe  tliat 
his  love  is  sincere  and  his  knowledge  accurate.  In  this 
way  are  we  enabled  to  know  that  we  know  God — if 
we  keep  his  commandments.  This  expression  of  our 
'text  is  peculiar,  and  I  think  that  a  brief  examination 
of  what  it  implies  will  be  calculated  to  direct  our  at- 
tention to  a  very  important  inquiry  in  connection  with 
our  religious  state. 

To  know  that  we  know  a  thing  may  at  first  view 
seem  to  be  a  redundant  form  of  speech.  Is  it  not  suffi- 
cient, it  may  be  said,  to  declare  of  a  man  that  he  knows 
a  certain  fact  or  a  certain  proposition?  If  he  does 
know  it,  is  he  not  conscious  of  the  existence  of  this 
knowledge  in  his  mind  ?  Why  should  he  be  required 
to  catechise  his  own  memory  or  understanding,  to  as- 
certain whether  he  knows  that  he  knows  this  fact  or 
this  proposition  ? 

Now,  were  the  mind  of  every  man  clear  and  quick 
of  apprehension,  and  were  the  conscience  of  every 
man  sensitive  and  well  informed,  there  would  be  no 
necessity  for  this  close  investigation.  If  such  were 
the  moral  condition  of  our  race,  and  any  individual 
then  declared  that  he  knew  a  thing,  we  should  be 
satisfied  that  his  impressions  were  strong  and  accurate  ; 
and  that,  having  a  distinct  consciousness  of  them,  he 
would  be  excited  to  perform  with  zeal  and  constancy 
every  duty  involved  in  this  knowledge.  But  we  are 
assured  that  far  different  is  the  state  of  the  human 
mind  and  the  human  heart.  The  one  is  full  of  weak- 
ness and  prejudice,  the  other  is  deceitful  above  all 


CHEISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE.  485 

things,  and  desperately  wicked.  These  are  a  part  of 
the  deplorable  consequences  of  the  fall  of  man ;  and 
therefore  the  New  Testament,  which  was  designed  to 
remove  or  alleviate  these  consequences,  directs  us  as 
part  of  our  moral  discipline  to  know  that  we  know. 
And  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  we  should 
exercise  this  discipline,  for  there  is  in  the  world  super- 
ficial and  imperfect  knowledge,  as  opposed  to  that 
which  is  full  and  extensive ;  and  there  is  speculative 
and  curious  knowledge,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
which  is  practical  and  useful.  This  statement,  which 
is  true  of  human  science,  as  every  one  who  has  made 
the  operations  of  the  human  intellect  at  all  a  subject 
of  study  will  readily  confess,  is  equally  appHcable  to 
religion.  In  order  to  know  whether  we  know  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  we  must  put  ourselves  to  a  faith- 
ful and  searching  self-examination.  Were  we  univer- 
sally to  do  this,  we  should  discover  that  the  amount  of 
religious  knowledge  around  us  is  far  less  than  we  may 
have  been  lead  to  suppose. 

We  imagine  that  we  are  a  highly  favored  people  ; 
that  there  is  no  portion  of  the  world  where  informa- 
tion upon  moral  and  religious  subjects  is  more  widely 
disseminated,  or  where  there  is  a  larger  proportion  of 
the  population  more  strictly  under  the  influence  of 
correct  ]3rinciples.  This  may  be  true,  when  we  institute 
a  comparison  between  ourselves  and  those  who  in  the 
order  of  Providence  have  been  placed  under  less 
favorable  circumstances.  But  this  is  not  a  just  or  a 
safe  mode  of  instituting  a  comparison.     We  must  com- 


486  OBEDIENCE   THE   TEST   OF 

pare  ourselves  with  tlie  Word  of  God,  and  thus  decide 
how  far  we  are  from  the  standard  by  which  we  are 
alone  authorized  to  judge.  A  scrutiny  carried  on  in 
this  manner  will  satisfy  us  that,  after  all,  there  is  not 
a  great  deal  of  sound  and  efficient  religious  knowledge 
in  the  world ;  and  that  while  there  are  many  who  pro- 
fess to  know,  there  are  few  who  can  satisfactorily  prove 
that  they  know. 

But  it  is  unprofitable  to  employ  our  time  in  trying 
to  discover  how  the  case  stands  with  others ;  it  is  much 
better  for  each  one  of  us  to  come  to  himself  And  it 
is  my  duty  to  excite  you  to  this  investigation,  and  to 
aid  you  in  carrying  it  forward.  Were  the  question 
put  to  you,  are  you  acquainted  with  the  Gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  with  the  hopes  and  promises  it  holds 
forth,  and  the  duties  it  enjoins  upon  you  ?  many  of 
you,  perhaps  most  of  you,  would  reply  in  the  affirmative. 
While  you  would  not  profess  to  be  versed  in  theology, 
or  to  be  familiar  with  the  learned  questions  involved 
in  the  criticism  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  you  could  not 
suspect  yourselves  of  ignorance  of  its  leading  truths 
and  requisitions. 

Let  us  now  come  to  the  test.  We  will  restrict  our- 
selves to  one  point,  viz.,  the  one  brought  forward  in 
the  text — the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ.  Tliis  is  the 
point  now  presented  to  our  notice.  Hereby  do  we 
know  that  we  know  him,  that  is,  Jesus  Christ,  if  we 
keep  his  commandments.  Obedience  is  the  only  satis- 
^ictory  proof  that  there  is  in  the  mind  a  knowledge 
of  Christ ;  and  when  this  does  not  exist,  we  may  be 


CHRISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE.  487 

sure  tliat  there  is  somewhere  a  serious  deficieucy.  Let 
us  endeavor  to  detect  where  it  lies.  Your  knowledge 
may  be  superficial  and  imperfect,  hidden,  curious  or 
speculative,  whereas  it  ought  to  be  full  and  extensive, 
available  for  present  use,  and  practical.  I  do  not  of 
course  mean  to  imply  that  we  can,  "  by  searching,  find 
out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection,"  nor  that  views  of 
the  Divine  character  and  the  revealed  Word,  equally 
deep  and  clear,  can  be  obtained  by  all  men.  The  ca- 
pacities of  men  are  extremely  various,  and  various  also 
are  the  opportunities  vouchsafed  to  them  for  acquiring 
information.  And  there  is  much  in  sacred  things  en- 
tirely beyond  the  reach  of  any  human  faculties.  But 
still  every  man  has  a  certain  capacity  and  certain 
opportunities  afforded  for  its  cultivation,  and  the  fitness 
and  extensiveness  of  his  acquirements  in  religion  will 
be  measured  by  these. 

How  many  a  poor  man  is  there  who,  with  the  sim- 
ple received  translation  of  the  Bible  in  his  hands,  by  a 
faithful,  diligent,  and  prayerful  use  of  it,  has  fuller 
and  clearer  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  ofiices,  and 
his  doctrines,  than  many  who  are  well  versed  in  all 
the  mysteries  of  Hebrew  and  Greek  learning,  and  all 
the  history  of  primitive  people  and  their  manners  and 
customs  ?  The  truth  is :  this  man,  jooor,  j^erhaps,  and 
unlettered,  has  gone  forward  in  the  spirit  of  the 
subject  he  was  investigating,  and  with  his  deficient 
attainments.  He  felt  the  want  of  religion  ;  he  needed 
its  comforts,  and  was  willing  to  be  directed  by  its 
requisitions  ;  he  therefore  set  himself  about  learning 


488  OBEDIENCE   THE    TEST    OF 

what  God  would  liave  liim  do,  and  point  after  point 
lie  ascertained  liis  duty  and  his  privileges  ;  and  as  fast 
as  he  ascertained  them  he  was  satisfied,  and  had  com- 
fort in  his  knowledge.  He  is  not  now  perplexed  with 
doubts,  nor  is  his  peace  of  mind  overshadowed  by  dif- 
ficulties. He  knows  that  Jesus  Christ  is  his  Redeemer, 
his  support  in  this  world,  and  the  Saviour  of  all  his 
hopes  for  the  next,  because  he  feels  that  he  is  using 
every  effort  to  obey  the  revealed  will  of  his  Saviour  as 
unfolded  to  him  in  the  Bible.  This  constant  effort 
brings  him  into  a  union  and  familiarity  with  Christ,  if 
we  may  use  the  expression, — a  familiarity  with  his 
character,  his  ofiices  and  his  language,  while  the  man 
of  learning  is  all  the  time  employed  in  abstruse  inves- 
tigations, and  questions  preliminary  to  the  only  truly 
important  and  essential  one,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou 
have  me  to  do  ? " 

But  I  have  stated  extreme  cases.  Those  who  are 
generally  brought  within  the  reach  of  instruction  from 
the  pulpit  in  this  place,  are  neither  so  ignorant  and 
unlettered  as  the  individual  to  whom  I  have  alluded 
on  the  one  hand,  nor  so  occupied  with  abstruse  studies 
as  the  other.  On  the  contrary,  are  there  not  many 
who  are  culpably  ignorant  of  what  the  Bible  teaches, 
who  either  do  not  read  it  at  all,  or  who  read  it  in  a 
careless  and  superficial  manner?  Nay,  have  we  not 
reason  to  fear  that  there  are  those,  and  pretty  regular 
attendants  upon  the  house  of  God  too,  whose  only 
knowledge  of  the  Sacred  Word  is  through  the  recol- 
lections of  their  youth,  and  the  portions  which  they 


CHEISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE.  489 

hear  read  in  tlie  weekly  services  of  tlie  Lord's  house  ? 
Now  many  of  these  will  think  that  they  know  some- 
thing of  religion ;  they  would  be  offended  to  be  accused 
of  gross  ignorance.  They  regard  themselves  as  knowing 
more  than  they  practise.  This  indeed  is  very  probable. 
But  let  them  bring  the  state  of  their  information  to  a 
trial. 

The  Scriptures  speak  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  only 
Son  of  God,  come  to  redeem  us  from  transgression,  and 
to  shed  his  blood  that  we  may  live ;  thus  implying 
that  but  for  him  we  should  have  died  eternally.  They 
state  that  the  only  way  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  privi- 
leges Christ  has  purchased  by  his  meritorious  sufferings 
and  death,  is  to  believe  in  him.  They  speak  of  a 
change  of  heart  wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and 
explicitly  declare,  that  if  any  man  is  in  Christ  he  is  a 
new  creature.  They  tell  also  of  the  operations  of  this 
Spu'it  in  renewing  the  heart  day  by  day,  and  thus 
sanctifying  the  faithful  and  rendering  them  meet  to  be 
partakers  of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
The  Bible  is  filled  with  these  and  many  like  declara- 
tions, in  which  the  connection  subsisting  between  Jesus 
the  Saviour  and  the  true  Christian  is  fully  unfolded. 

Now,  how  many  are  there  here  present  that  know 
these  things  ?  They  have  heard  of  them,  perhaps,  oc- 
casionally, in  the  Sacred  Word,  or  in  casual  reading 
or  conversation.  But  have  they  any  assurance  or  clear- 
ness of  knowledge  ?  Do  they,  to  use  the  expression 
of  the  text,  know  that  they  know  what  these  things 
mean  ?     I  suspect  that  there  are  very  many  in  a  de- 


490  OBEDLElSrCE   THE   TEST   OF 

plorable  state  of  ignorance.  But  they  will  perhaps 
reply,  all  these  are  doctrinal  subtleties.  We  never 
trouble  ourselves  with  such  questions.  They  are  mys- 
teries, and  we  wish  to  adhere  to  the  clear  and  simple 
portions  of  Scripture ;  we  want  only  that  which  is  prac- 
tical. We  do  not  approve  of  doctrines,  we  want  every- 
day duties  practically  enforced.  Such  objections  as 
these  prove  absolute  ignorance  of  what  religion  is.  In 
Christianity  there  is  no  practical  duty  unconnected 
with  doctrine. 

But  for  a  moment,  and  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
let  us  waive  this  question,  and  acknowledge  that  it  is 
consistent  with  revealed  truth  to  speak  of  duties, 
taught  by  Christ,  without  any  reference  to  doctrines 
equally  enjoined  upon  our  notice  by  him.  How  far  do 
these  very  persons  who  are  so  strenuous  for  the  moral- 
ity of  the  Gospel,  understand  the  nature,  the  extent, 
and  the  obligations  of  this  Christian  morality  ?  In 
what  way  do  they  make  a  conscience  of  living  up  to 
it  ?  Why  are  they  obedient  to  its  requisitions  ?  Are 
they  not  often  moral  in  outward  deportment  from  a 
sense  of  propriety,  from  habit,  from  a  regard  to  char- 
acter, and  such  motives  ?  Have  they  a  reference  to 
God  and  his  commandments  in  all  their  actions  ?  and 
do  they  keep  the  interior  of  their  mind  and  aifections 
as  pure  as  their  outward  deportment  ?  And  after  all 
do  they  know  that  they  know  Christ,  even  in  this  lim- 
ited sense,  by  a  consciousness  that  in  making  a  princi- 
ple of  obeying  his  commandments  they  live  up  to  this 
knowledge  ?     I  suspect  that  very  much  of  the  morality 


CHRISTIAlSr   KNOWLEDGE.  491 

that  there  is  in  the  world  separate  from  Christian  doc- 
trine, is  the  morality  of  habit,  of  sentiment  fi'om  early 
associations,  of  example  in  imitating  others,  and  of  fear 
in  being  restrained  from  following  our  own  inclinations 
in  view  of  the  consequences  which  would  ensue.  All 
this  is  uncertain,  unsatisfactory ;  it  is  no  security  for  a 
uniform  course  of  virtuous  life  here,  and  it  cannot  stand 
the  test  of  God's  judgments  hereafter.  The  will  of 
God  is  the  only  source  of  moral  obligation,  and  the  de- 
sire of  obeying  him  is  the  only  motive  to  obedience 
which  he  will  accept.  And  this  brings  me  back  to 
the  j)oint  upon  which  we  were  touching,  of  the  connec- 
tion between  the  morality  of  the  Gospel  and  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Gospel.  Have  they  not  the  same  founda- 
tion ?  Did  not  the  words  in  which  both  are  repre- 
sented proceed  from  the  same  Spirit  of  truth  ?  Have 
we  a  right  to  take  the  revelation  of  God,  and  make 
our  selection  of  what  we  will  adopt  and  what  we  will 
reject  ?  Was  not  the  whole  revealed  in  compassion  to 
our  ignorance  ?  And  if  so,  does  not  this  very  igno- 
rance unfit  us  for  the  office  of  selection?  No,  my 
brethren ;  we  must  take  the  whole  as  God's  Word,  and 
adopt  it,  and  learn  from  it,  and  be  governed  by  it. 
Precepts  of  morality  are  indissolubly  intwined  with 
doctrines,  and  what  God  hath  joined  together  let  no 
man  put  asunder. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  I  would  humbly  trust  that 
many  of  you,  even  by  the  observations  thus  thrown 
out,  in  an  informal  way,  upon  the  text,  may  be  excited 
to  examine  yourselves  as  to  the  extent  of  your  know- 


492  OBEDIENCE   THE   TEST   OF 

ledge  of  Clirist.  I  would  trust  tliat  you  will  not  rest 
satisfied  any  longer  witli  vague  impressions,  that  you 
will  not  esteem  yourselves  his  disciples  simply  because 
you  bear  his  name,  attend  the  worship  which  is  offered 
up  in  temples  dedicated  to  his  service,  and  because  you 
approve  the  general  tone  of  the  moral  precepts  he  put 
forth,  and  have  in  some  measure  acquired  the  habit  of 
obeying  them.  Your  investigation  must  be  much 
deeper.  The  only  knowledge  of  a  subject  which  is  sat- 
isfactory and  profitable  is  that  which  gives  us  a  certain 
command  over  it.  We  can  hold  it  up,  as  it  were,  and 
look  upon  it,  every  side.  We  gain  a  certain  confidence 
in  regard  to  it,  and  as  the  text  expresses  the  state  of 
mind,  we  know  that  we  know.  Now,  is  this  the  state 
of  your  mind  upon  the  great,  the  leading  question  in 
religion,  your  interest  in  Christ  ?  When  persons  were 
excited  in  ancient  time  to  ask,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved?"  the  reply  was,  "Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  Do  you  then  know 
what  it  is  to  believe  in  him  ?  Have  you  weighed  the 
meaning  of  this  phrase  ?  have  you  looked  at  it  in  all 
its  bearings  ?  have  you  contemplated  Christ  in  all  the 
oflices  which  he  sustains  in  relation  to  fallen  man  ? 

In  the  passage  immediately  preceding  our  text  it  is 
said,  "  If  any  man  sin  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and  he  is  the  pro- 
pitiation for  our  sins."  You  will  all  doubtless  acknow- 
ledge that  you  have  sinned.  Do  you  then  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  our  having  an  advocate  with  the 
Father  ?  do  you  know  why  he  is  styled  the  righteous  ? 


CHEISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE.  493 

do  you  understand  in  what  sense  lie  Is  tlie  propitiation 
for  our  sins  ?  I  have  met  with  those  who  were  igno- 
rant as  to  human  learning,  who  could  hardly  read  their 
own  language,  and  who  could  not  write  a  letter  of  it, 
who  yet  could  reply  to  these  questions  in  the  fullest  and 
most  satisfactory  manner,  and  who  had  an  assurance 
of  knowledge  that  all  the  philosophy  of  the  world  could 
not  shake ;  who  took  a  moral  position,  and  enjoyed  a 
happiness  which  kings  might  envj,  and  before  which 
the  sages  of  the  earth  might  bend  in  humility.  And  I 
have  also  met  with  those  who  could  discourse  learnedly 
upon  all  questions  of  human  science,  who  could  detect 
the  nicest  shades  of  meaning  in  all  moral  investiga- 
tions, who  could  read  in  their  original  tongues  the  Sa- 
cred Volume,  and  throw  upon  it  the  critical  lights  of 
history  and  philosophy,  who  yet  were  in  doubts  and 
darkness  as  to  the  character  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the 
relation  in  which  he  stands  to  their  future  and  eternal 
happiness. 

Oh !  save  us  from  this  learning,  and  intellectual 
power,  and  surround  us  with  this  ignorance,  if  one  only 
is  compatible  with  the  clear  views,  the  consoling  reflec- 
tions, the  bright  hopes,  the  contented  and  useful  life, 
the  tranquil  death  and  the  glorious  immortality  of  the 
true  Christian.  But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
state  is  incompatible  with  Gospel  knowledge  and  Gos- 
pel faith.  Only  the  poor  and  ignorant  man  is  perhaps 
already  of  an  humble  mind ;  as  a  little  child  he  ap- 
proaches the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  is  therefore  read- 
ily admitted  therein,  whereas  he  who  is  endowed  with 


494  OBEDIElirCE  THE  TEST  OF  CHEISTIAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

learning  and  intellectual  power  has  a  severe  discij^line 
to  undergo,  and  mucli  self-denial  to  exercise.  But  lie 
is  already  prepared  to  arrive  at  one  conclusion  if  he 
will  attend  to  it.  Give  him  a  proposition  in  human 
learning,  and  he  understands  the  process  by  which  he 
can  know  if  he  knows  it.  If  he  know  it,  he  can  use  it 
fearlessly  and  effectively  for  what  it  was  designed. 
Let  him  in  the  same  way  put  to  the  proof  his  know- 
ledge of  Christ  and  his  Gospel ;  the  text  has  given  the 
mode  of  proof, — ^hereby  may  we  know  that  we  know 
him,  if  we  keep  his  commandments.  Now,  he  com- 
mands us  to  beheve  in  him  and  to  obey  him,  to  believe 
in  him  as  our  Sa\dour  and  to  obey  him  as  our  law- 
giver ;  if  we  are  in  this  state  we  know  that  we  know 
him.  If  not,  whatever  may  be  our  self-confidence,  we 
are  yet  ignorant  of  him. 

We  may  be  indifferent  to  this  now,  but  the  time  is 
coming  when  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  the  thorough, 
abiding,  saving  knowledge,  will  be  our  only  resource, 
and  superficial  acquaintance  will  avail  us  nothing.  We 
may  say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  have  we  not  eaten  and  drunk 
in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets  ? " 
but  then  will  he  profess  unto  them,  "I  never  knew 
you ;  dej)art  from  me,  ye  workers  of  iniquity ! " 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT  GRIEVED  ON  ACCOUNT 
OE  OUR  SINS. 


Ephesians   IV.    30. 

"  And  grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  Avliereby  ye  are  sealed  unto 
the  day  of  redemption." 

Theee  is  something  inexpressibly  solemn  and  affect- 
ing in  the  idea  that  superior  beings,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  spiritual  world,  are  constantly  watching  the  sons 
of  men  in  their  progress  through  this  state  of  pro- 
bation, and  are  deeply  interested  in  its  results.  As  we 
are  expressly  told  that  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  a 
rej)enting  sinner,  so  may  we  believe  that  there  is 
sorrow,  such  as  angels  feel,  over  the  error  and  de- 
pravity of  those  who  wander  into  the  devious  paths 
of  wickedness.  And  not  merely  are  the  blessed  angels 
concerned  for  our  moral  and  religious  welfare,  but  the 
holy  God  himself,  though  seated  on  his  throne  in  the 
heaven  of  heavens,  yet  condescends  to  behold  the 
things  that  are  done  u^^on  the  earth.     He  has  gra- 


496  THE   HOLY   SPIRIT   GEIEVED 

ciously  declared  tliat  lie  cherislies  for  us  a  paternal 
regard.  He  notices  and  applauds  our  virtuous  efforts, 
and  deigns  even  to  say  that  he  grieves  for  our  sins  and 
the  hardness  of  our  liearts.  Upon  this  acknowledged 
interest  of  the  Supreme  Being  in  our  concerns,  the 
exhortation  of  the  Apostle  in  my  text  is  grounded, — 
"  Grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God."  These  words 
will  lead  us  to  inquire,  Jii'St^  into  the  nature  of  the 
Spii'it  of  God ;  and,  secondly^  into  that  course  of  con- 
duct which  is  denominated  grieving  him. 

I.  We  are  first  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  for  this  must  be  understood  before  we 
can  affirm  what  will  be  pleasing  or  displeasing  in  his 
sight.  Who  then  is  this  Spirit  of  God,  and  what  are 
the  characteristics  under  which  he  is  revealed  to  us  ? 
The  Spirit  is  only  a  personification  of  some  of  the 
attributes  of  the  Supreme,  some  will  reply,  and  has  no 
distinct  personal  existence.  But  we  are  taught  from 
the  Holy  Scriptures  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  the  thii'd 
person  of  the  ever  blessed  Trinity,  proceeding  from 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  of  the  same  nature  and  of 
equal  power  with  them,  and  with  them  constituting  the 
one  only  living  and  true  God.  Having  declared  thus 
much  we  can  go  no  farther,  because  we  have  reached 
the  limits  which  the  Sacred  Volume  has  assigned  to 
our  knowledge  in  the  present  state.  If  asked  how  is 
it  possible  that  three  persons  can  subsist  in  one  God- 
head, that  there  is  a  distinction  between  them,  and 
that  they  nevertheless  constitute  but  one  adorable 
Being  ?  we  must  confess  that  a  question  is  proposed 


OlSr   ACCOUNT   OF   OUB   SINS.  497 

wliicli  we  cannot  solve.  We  dare  not  go  beyond  the 
Bible  to  say  either  more  or  less.  "VVe  find  that  the 
Supreme  is  revealed  to  us  as  the  triune  God ;  that 
Father,  Son  and  Holy  Spirit  are  separately  mentioned, 
and  that  godlike  attributes  are  assigned  to  each,  and 
godlike  offices  are  performed  by  each,  and  all  in  so 
explicit  a  manner,  that  we  cannot  hesitate  to  receive 
this  doctrine  as  a  fundamental  article  of  our  faith. 

We  enter  not  into  the  proof  of  it  at  this  time  ;  we 
have  on  several  previous  occasions  endeavored  to  satis- 
fy your  minds  in  regard  to  it.  But  while  on  this  day 
we  devoutly  comj^ly  with  the  requisitions  of  the 
Church  in  celebrating  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  acknowledge  our  belief  in  his  being  and  person- 
ality, let  us  recall  to  mind  his  peculiar  attributes,  that 
we  may  compare  with  them  our  own  conduct,  and  dis- 
cover whether  or  not  it  is  such  as  will  grieve  him. 
The  Spiiit  of  God  is  eminently  the  Spirit  of  truth,  of 
purity,  and  love.  As  the  Sj)irit  of  truth,  he  commu- 
nicated to  the  minds  of  Proj^hets  and  Apostles  all 
these  important  discoveries  which  are  contained  in  the 
revealed  Word  of  God,  and  by  his  ordinary  operations 
he  still  conveys  to  the  hearts  of  men  a  vital  know- 
ledge of  the  way  of  salvation.  As  the  Spirit  of  purity, 
he  cleanses  the  hearts  of  men  from  the  defilements  of 
sin ;  he  inspires  holy  thoughts  and  designs,  and  is 
engaged  in  the  work  of  renewing  and  sanctifying  our 
fallen  nature.  As  the  Spirit  of  love,  he  pours  into 
our  hearts  that  most  excellent  gift  of  chaiity,  the  very 
bond  of  peace  and  all  virtues  ;  he  labors  to  bring  men 
32 


498  THE   HOLT   SPIEIT   GEIEVED 

to  unity  and  concord,  and  would  teacli  them  mutual 
forbearance  and  affection,  and  to  strive  only  who  shall 
most  ardently  love  and  most  faithfully  serve  his  Maker. 
These  are  some  of  the  offices  which  belong  in  an  espe- 
cial manner  to  the  Holy  Sj^irit  of  God,  and  by  exe- 
cuting these  he  seals  us  to  the  day  of  redemption.  To 
seal  is  to  place  upon  any  thing  a  mark  of  designation, 
to  give  evidence  that  it  belongs  to  him  who  had  power 
and  authority  to  impress  it  with  his  signet.  The  Holy 
Spirit  then,  by  leading  us  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
divine  truth,  by  purifying  us  from  corruption,  and  by 
warmins:  our  heai-ts  with  the  sincere  love  of  God, 
marks  us  out  as  the  children  of  God ;  and  as  those 
who  at  the  great  day  shall  be  redeemed  from  sin  and 
death,  and  shall  be  entitled  to  the  eternal  joys  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

II.  We  are  now  prepared  to  inquire  what  is  that 
conduct  of  men  which  wiU  grieve  this  holy  Being 
whose  peculiar  offices  we  have  stated.  But  here  it 
may  be  asked.  Can  the  Divine  nature  be  exposed  to 
such  a  painful  emotion  as  that  mentioned  in  the  text  ? 
We  can  readily  comprehend  how  a  parent  is  grieved 
for  the  errors  and  sins  of  a  beloved  child ;  but  is  it 
not  an  essential  part  of  our  idea  of  the  Deity  that  he 
is  free  from  the  sufferings  as  well  as  the  imperfections 
of  our  nature  ?  Unquestionably  it  is.  According  to 
the  strict  acceptation  of  the  terms,  God  cannot  repent 
or  be  sorry,  or  in  any  other  way  be  liable  to  change. 
These  emotions  suppose  an  imperfection,  and  such  a 
dependence  upon  outward  circumstances,  as  is  iucon- 


ON   ACCOUNT    OF    OUR   SESTS.  499 

sistent  witli  the  idea  of  an  eternal  and  Almighty  Being. 
But  notwithstanding  this  is  the  severe  and  unalterable 
truth  as  regards  the  character  of  the  Deity,  we  yet 
find  in  the  Sacred  Volume  many  such  expressions  as 
these :  "  It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made 
man ; "  "  He  was  grieved  for  the  hardness  of  their 
hearts  ; "  "  In  all  their  affliction  he  was  afflicted." 

Such  modes  of  speech  are  figurative,  and  are 
adopted  in  compliance  with  the  imperfection  of  lan- 
guage and  in  accommodation  to  our  limited  faculties. 
We  cannot  understand  the  Almighty  to  perfection,  and 
all  our  knowledge  of  him  must  depend  upon  our  en- 
larging to  their  utmost  extent  our  ideas  of  the  good 
qualities  which  belong  to  us,  and  our  language  as  it  is 
constructed  in  reference  to  earthly  things  must  be  ex- 
tremely deficient  when  applied  to  the  Divine  nature. 
When  the  Scriptures  then  declare  to  us  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  may  be  grieved,  it  is  intended  we  should  under- 
stand that  he  is  not  indifferent  to  our  conduct ;  but  if 
we  resist  his  warnings  and  despise  his  admonitions,  we 
must  be  accounted  perverse  and  ungrateful,  like  chil- 
dren who  slight  the  instructions  and  turn  a  deaf  ear 
to  the  entreaties  of  an  affectionate  parent.  But  as  our 
Father  in  heaven  is  infinitely  greater  than  an  earthly 
parent,  so  is  the  wickedness  and  ingratitude  of  resist- 
ing the  Holy  Spirit  the  most  aggravated  in  degree. 

As  the  Spirit  of  God  is  the  Spirit  of  truth,  and  pu- 
rity, and  loA'e,  we  grieve  him  whenever  our  actions 
are  at  variance  with  these  adorable  attributes,  when- 
ever we  perversely  resist  the  affectionate  appeals  which 


500  THE   HOLY   SPIEIT   GEIEVED 

he  is  ever  making  to  our  understandings  and  our  affec- 
tions. Do  you  doubt,  my  brethren,  whether  such  ap- 
peals are  made  ?  do  you  question  the  reality  of  those 
influences  which  have  been  exercised  among  men,  ever 
since  that  day  of  Pentecost  when  the  Sj^irit  was  poured 
out  upon  the  assembled  Apostles,  and  the  promise 
of  our  blessed  Sa\dour  was  fulfilled  in  the  advent  of 
the  Divine  Comforter?  Do  you  doubt  because  you 
have  no  external  evidence  of  his  existence,  because 
your  eyes  cannot  see  him,  nor  your  hands  lay  hold  upon 
him,  nor  your  bodies  be  made  sensible  to  his  opera- 
tions ?  Oh !  faithless  and  unbelieving,  exjject  not  the 
evidence  of  sense  to  this  great  doctrine  of  the  Gospel 
of  Christ.  Inquire  of  your  own  spirits.  The  Divine 
Comforter  is  not  a  material  being,  and  your  material 
frames  cannot  bear  witness  to  him.  But  he  is  a  Spiiit, 
and  youi'  spirits  only  can  feel  his  influences  and  respond 
to  his  entreaties.  Have  you  never,  then,  when  reading 
the  pages  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  or  hearing  its  doc- 
trines and  precepts  unfolded,  or  when  you  have  been 
wrapped  in  meditations  upon  the  greatness  and  good- 
ness of  God,  and  your  accountability  to  him,  have  you 
not  at  these  times  felt  the  power  of  Divine  truth,  and 
heard  the  spuitual  voice  unfolding  the  path  of  duty, 
and  saying  to  your  conscience,  "  this  is  the  way,  walk 
ye  in  it  ? "  Be  assured  that  then  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God  was  holding  intercourse  with  you,  and  if  you  neg- 
lected his  warnings  and  went  counter  to  his  instruc- 
tions, he  was  grieved  at  the  hardness  of  your  heart. 
And  have  you  never  experienced  aixlent  aspirations 


OlSr   ACCOUNT    OF   OUR   SINS.  501 

after  purity  and  holiness ;  has  not  virtue  excited  in  you 
a  peculiar  interest  and  appeared  clothed  with  uncom- 
mon loveliness ;  has  not  vice  seemed  loathsome  and  de- 
grading ;  and  have  you  not  for  a  time  been  fully  con- 
vinced that  holiness  of  life  and  character  constitutes 
the  true  dignity  and  happiness  of  man  ? 

Know  that  all  this  was  the  operation  of  the  Spirit 
of  grace,  and  if  you  have  resisted  it,  and  have  encour- 
aged the  intrusion  of  impure  thoughts,  and  have  re- 
turned to  wicked  actions,  the  Spirit  of  God  has  been 
grieved  and  has  left  you,  because  he  cannot  dwell  in  a 
polluted  heart.  Have  you  never  felt  those  bonds  of 
selfishness  and  coldness  which  enchain  so  many  of  us 
to  the  earth  giving  way,  and  your  enlarged  spirit  walk- 
ing forth,  in  the  freedom  of  Christian  charity,  and  em- 
bracing with  its  sympathies  the  whole  human  family, 
and  stretchino;  out  its  sentiments  of  love  even  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  and  the  blessed  spirits  who  dwell 
there,  and  the  great  Being  who  reigns  there  ?  Doubt 
not  but  the  Holy  Spirit  has  been  Idndling  in  your 
breast  the  fire  of  holy  love.  But  if  you  quench  it  by 
being  again  absorbed  in  earthly  thoughts  and  pursuits, 
and  being  limited  to  earthly  objects  of  affection,  the 
Spirit  is  grieved,  and  departs  ;  for  his  genial  influences 
cannot  remain  where  worldliness  and  selfishness  hold 
undivided  sway. 

It  would  take  Ions;  to  enumerate  all  those  circum- 
stances  under  which  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  is  grieved 
— even  as  Ions;  as  to  declare  all  those  occasions  when 
pious  thoughts  and  good  designs  have  been  raised  in 


502  THE   HOLY   SPIRIT    GEIEVED 

the  lieart  of  any  man,  and  liave  been  again  forgotten 
and  abandoned.  But  let  any  one  consider  how  often 
he  has  been  warned  against  temptation,  or  admonished 
after  sin,  or  excited  to  ^drtue,  so  often  has  the  Spirit 
been  striving  with  him  ;  and  whenever  sin  has  tri- 
umphed the  Spirit  has  been  grieved.  But  it  may  be 
said,  as  the  Spirit  is  all  powerful,  why  does  he  not  con- 
strain us  irresistibly  and  bend  our  stubborn  tempers  to 
that  course  of  conduct  which  He  approves  ?  "Where, 
let  me  ask,  would  be  the  value  of  such  an  extorted 
obedience?  in  what  esteem  could  we  hold  that  man 
who  was  free  from  sin  merely  because  he  was  restrained 
from  committing  it  ?  The  service  of  God  is  one  uj^on 
which  we  must  enter  willingly.  His  government  is  a 
government  of  motives,  and  these  motives  are  presented 
to  our  understandings  and  our  hearts  by  the  agency 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  if  we  render  a  voluntary  and 
cheerful  compliance,  then  are  we  his  acknowledged  and 
approved  subjects.  We  must  not,  then,  imagine  that 
the  Spirit  has  not  yet  approached  our  consciences  be- 
cause their  remonstrances  have  never  been  so  loud  as 
to  overcome  our  opposition.  No  ;  the  heavenly  minis- 
ter of  grace  has  been  near  to  us  all,  who  have  lived 
within  the  sphere  of  Gospel  knowledge  and  privileges. 
Let  this  thought  induce  us  all  most  seriously  to 
consider  what  reception  we  have  given  to  the  heavenly 
visitor.  Do  not  suppose  that  his  rejection  is  a  matter 
of  trifling  consequence,  and  that  it  incurs  merely  the 
loss  of  those  benefits  which  he  would  have  conferred. 
No,  my  brethren ;  if  the  Spirit  of  God  can  be  grieved, 


ON   ACCOUNT   OF   OUR   SINS.  503 

we  read  also  that  He  can  be  j^rovoked  to  anger — anger, 
not  an  irritation  like  that  of  weak  and  frail  man,  but  a 
solemn,  awful,  and  just  dis2:)leasure.  Of  such  an  anger 
how  dreadful  are  the  consequences !  The  unhappy  de- 
linquent is  left  to  himself  and  his  own  devices.  The 
Spii'it  of  God  once  banished  from  the  heart, — at  the 
same  time  spiritual  light,  and  purity,  and  love  have 
gone.  All  is  dark  and  hopeless,  and  at  the  latter  day 
all  will  be  utter  des23air. 

Let  us  then,  my  brethren,  take  heed  to  the  day  of 
our  visitation.  Let  ns  remember  how  highly  honored 
we  are  in  that  our  hearts  are  daily  approached  by  so 
holy  and  powerful  a  Being.  It  is  a  most  solemn  con- 
sideration that  the  Spirit  of  truth,  and  purity,  and 
love,  has  admittance  to  our  inmost  souls,  and  has 
knowledge  of  our  most  secret  thoughts.  And  it  is  a 
most  animating  thought  that  this  same  Spirit  will 
make  the  hearts  of  the  pure  and  holy  his  temple  of 
abode.  Let  us  then  encourage  and  sohcit  his  presence 
by  virtuous  and  godly  lives,  and  frequent  and  fervent 
prayers.  While  he  is  absent,  there  is  neither  purity 
nor  peace  ;  when  he  is  present,  joy  is  shed  abroad  in 
our  hearts,  vice  is  confounded,  virtue  triumphs,  and  we 
have  a  foretaste  of  that  happiness  which  in  the  future 
world  shall  be  our  eternal  inheritance. 


THE  DANGER  AND  GUILT  OE  THE  LOVE 
OE  RICHES. 


Proverbs  xxviii.  20. 

"  He  that  maketh  haste  to  be  rich  shall  not  be  innocent." 

I  WEED  not  tell  you,  my  brethren,  tliat  the  maxims 
and  tlie  practice  of  the  world  are  in  direct  oj)position 
to  this  inspired  precept.  The  accumulation  of  wealth 
is  the  chief  motive  that  impels  men  to  the  exercise  of 
their  mental  and  bodily  faculties,  and  it  is  deemed  an 
honorable  and  praiseworthy  motive ;  the  j^rudent  pa- 
rent urges  it  upon  the  attention  of  his  child,  and  the 
community  at  large  applaud  and  encourage  its  mani- 
festations. Industry,  enterprise  and  economy,  are 
therefore  not  so  much  valued  for  their  intrinsic  proper- 
ties in  the  formation  of  character,  as  on  account  of  their 
obvious  use  in  accomplishing  what  with  the  great  ma- 
jority of  men  seems  to  be  the  princi]3al  object  of  life. 
The  rapid  acquisition  of  I'iches,  too,  so  far  from  being 
regarded  as  a  hazardous  trial  of  virtue,  and  therefore 


THE   DANGER    OF   THE    LOVE    OF    EICHES.  505 

to  most  men  a  misfortune  rather  than  a  blessing,  is 
coveted  with  eagerness,  and  too  often  looked  upon 
with  envy  by  the  unsuccessful.  Now  the  language  of 
Scripture  is  at  variance  with  these  sentiments,  for  it 
says,  "Labor  not  to  be  rich;  cease  from  thine  own 
wisdom."  "  They  that  will  be  rich  fall  into  tempta- 
tion and  a  snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful 
lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition ; 
for  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil."  "  How 
hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God."  These  and  many  other  passages  clearly 
exhibit  the  estimation  in  which  the  great  pursuit  of 
man  is  held  by  Divine  wisdom.  But  the  text  which  I 
have  selected  goes  farther,  and  j^i'onounces  him  that 
maketh  haste  to  be  rich  not  only  unwise  in  striving  for 
a  position  dangerous  to  his  soul's  health,  but  declares 
him  to  have  become  already  guilty, — "  he  shall  not  be 
innocent." 

This  is  a  subject,  however,  which  at  the  very  outset 
suggests  many  seeming  paradoxes,  and  therefore  it  is 
one  which  requu'es  explanation  and  invites  discussion. 
With  this  design  it  is  now  presented  to  your  notice  ; 
and,  most  certainly,  it  is  a  subject  which  cannot  be 
without  use  and  interest  in  a  community,  where  the 
rapid  accumulation  of  wealth  is  so  universally  looked 
upon  as  a  distinguished  blessing,  a  community,  too, 
the  members  of  which  are  in  a  peculiar  manner  liable 
to  incur  whatever  amount  of  guilt  the  text  denounces 
against  those  who  make  haste  to  be  rich. 

In  my  treatment  of  this  subject  I  propose  firsts  to 


506  THE   DANGER    OF   THE   LOVE    OF   RICHES. 

state  briefly  the  principles  wliicli  the  Gospel  maintains 
concerning  riches  and  their  accumulation ;  secondly^ 
what  is  intended  by  making  haste  to  be  rich ;  and 
thirdly^  the  nature  and  consequences  of  the  guilt  in- 
curred by  this  course  of  conduct. 

I.  If  it  be  demanded,  then,  whether  religion  forbids 
to  its  professors  the  possession  of  wealth,  or  the  mod- 
erate and  w^ell  regulated  desire  for  its  acquisition,  or 
the  diligent  use  of  the  means  which  are  essential  to  ob- 
taining and  preserving  it,  we  reply,  without  hesitation, 
that  it  does  not.  The  Gospel  advances  no  such  un- 
reasonable doctrine,  it  requires  no  discipline  so  incon- 
sistent with  the  development  of  the  human  faculties, 
so  subversive  of  the  social  state  in  which  man  has  been 
placed,  and  in  which  it  was  designed  that  he  should 
pass  the  term  of  his  probation.  Many,  indeed,  have 
inferred  from  certain  insulated  texts  of  Scrij)ture,  erro- 
neously interpreted,  that  such  a  course  of  conduct  is 
recommended  to  the  disciple  of  Christ,  if  not  required 
from  him.  A  voluntary  poverty  has  often  been  the 
theme  of  praise,  and  the  object  of  recommendation, 
with  some  misguided  enthusiasts,  and  is  still  regarded 
by  many  as  one  of  the  strongest  evidences  of  a  re- 
ligious temper  of  mind,  and  one  of  the  surest  methods 
of  securing  the  Divine  favor.  But  we  have  not  so 
learned  Christ,  nor  do  we  think  that  such  an  inference 
can  be  legitimately  drawn  from  any  one  of  the  pre- 
cepts of  his  Gospel.  The  commands  are  frequent  and 
positive  that  we  should  not  trust  in  uncertain  riches, 
that  we  should  not  set  our  hearts  upon  them,  that  we 


THE   DANGER    OF   THE    LOVE    OF   EICHES.  507 

sliould  not  sacrifice  to  them  tlie  treasures  of  tlie  soul, 
and  our  blessed  Saviour  has  emphatically  declared  that 
we  "  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon,"  that  is,  devote 
ourselves  soul  and  body  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth, 
and  at  the  same  time  maintain  our  allegiance  to  our 
heavenly  Master.  We  are  constantly  admonished,  too, 
of  the  dangers  to  which  the  rich  man  is  pecuharly  ex- 
posed— how  much  stronger  his  temptations  are  than 
those  of  his  less  prosperous  brethren,  to  pride,  to  luxu- 
ry, to  selfishness,  and  to  forgetfulness  of  his  God  and 
his  future  well-being. 

But  deceitful  as  wealth  is,  and  dangerous  in  its  in- 
fluences upon  the  unguarded  and  the  worldly-minded, 
it  is  nevertheless  in  itself  an  eminent  blessing,  and  a 
powerful  means  of  usefulness  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
prudent  and  conscientious  man.  It  is  unequivocally  a 
gift  conferred  l^y  the  hand  of  God  uj)on  its  possessor, 
and  its  distribution  amongst  men  is  regulated  by  the 
direct  interposition  of  his  Providence.  The  indications 
of  this  truth  are  very  clearly  marked — for  look  out 
upon  the  world  of  human  enterprise,  and  see  in  what 
wonderful  ways  riches  are  l^oth  obtained  and  lost. 
The  greatest  industry,  prudence  and  enterprise,  will  not 
always  secure  them,  nor  is  the  absence  of  these  quali- 
ties always  attended  with  poverty.  The  mighty  and 
prosperous  of  the  earth  are  often  suddenly  overwhelmed 
with  adversity,  and  again  God  raiseth  up  the  poor  out 
of  the  dust,  and  lifteth  the  needy  out  of  the  dung-hill, 
that  he  may  set  him  with  the  j)rinces,  even  with  the 
princes  of  his  people.     All  this  proves  that  the  Most 


508  THE   DAT^GEE    OF   THE   LOVE   OF   EICHES. 

Higli  ruletli  in  the  kingdom  of  men,  and  that  lie  giveth 
it  to  whomsoever  he  will.  If  God,  then,  sees  fit  to 
place  wealth  in  the  hands  of  any  individual,  by  giving 
him  the  inheritance  of  that  for  which  he  did  not  labor, 
or  by  crowning  his  industry  and  enterprise  '^vdth  suc- 
cess, is  he,  upon  coming  to  a  sense  of  religious  duty,  to 
abandon  this  wealth,  or  scatter  it  to  the  winds  ?  By 
no  means.  This  would  be  to  charge  God  foolishly, 
and  to  throw  contempt  upon  his  gifts.  No ;  on  the 
contrary  he  is  bound  to  watch  and  cherish  his  pros- 
perity, and  anxiously  to  ask,  as  under  a  deep  sense  of 
responsibility,  how  he  can  best  employ  it  for  the  pro- 
motion of  God's  great  purposes  of  benevolence ;  and 
he  is  ever  to  remember  that  God  has  conferred  upon 
him  the  distinguished  honor  of  making  him  one  of  the 
stewards  of  his  bounty.  Such  is  the  teaching  of  the 
oracles  of  Divine  wisdom.  Hear  upon  this  subject  the 
clear  and  impressive  instructions  of  St.  Paul  to  his  son 
Timothy :  "  Charge  them  that  are  rich  in  this  world, 
that  they  be  not  highminded  nor  trust  in  uncertain 
riches,  but  in  the  living  God,  who  giveth  us  richly  all 
things  to  enjoy;  That  they  do  good,  that  they  be  rich 
in  good  works,  ready  to  distribute,  willing  to  commu- 
nicate ;  Laying  up  in  store  for  themselves  a  good  foun- 
dation against  the  time  to  come,  that  they  may  lay 
hold  on  eternal  life."  Here  is  no  command  to  abandon 
riches,  nor  even  to  disperse  them  all  in  works  of  char- 
ity, nor  yet  to  refrain  from  efforts  to  increase  them. 
The  charge  is,  do  not  trust  in  them ;  be  not  high- 
minded  ;  if  rich  in  wealth,  be  proportionably  rich  in 


THE   DANGEK   OF   THE    LOVE   OF   EICIIES.  509 

good  works ;  and  do  not  hoard  up  the  superabundance, 
but  distribute  it,  and  communicate  a  portion  to  the 
needy. 

Such  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  just  and 
rational,  and  dictated  equally  by  wisdom  and  benevo- 
lence. How  erroneous,  then,  is  the  sentiment  of  those 
who  would  denounce  the  condition  of  wealth  or  recom- 
mend that  of  poverty,  as  if  one  were  any  more  favored 
and  protected  by  God  than  the  other.  "  The  rich  and 
poor  meet  together ;  the  Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them 
all."  Both  conditions  are  alike  controlled  by  his  Provi- 
dence, and  both  are  essential  to  carrying  out  his  merci- 
ful designs  in  the  moral  government  of  the  world. 
Vain  wishes  indeed  are  sometimes  expressed  that  the 
distribution  of  wealth  in  the  community  might  be  equal- 
ized, and  visionary  and  short-sighted  propositions  to  this 
effect  are  advanced.  By  some,  doubtless,  these  hopes 
and  efforts  are  prompted  through  a  benevolent  desire 
to  see  deserving  poverty  raised,  and  the  pride  of  riches 
brought  down,  and  the  comforts  of  life  equally  diffused ; 
but  in  many  instances  they  are  the  result  of  idleness, 
covetousness,  and  disappointed  ambition.  Be  the  mo- 
tive, however,  good  or  bad,  the  wish  itself  is  a  falla- 
cious one,  and  the  attempt  to  carry  it  into  effect  would 
be  attended  with  the  most  disastrous  consequences. 
It  would  cause  the  utter  subversion  of  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  society,  and  if  successful,  would  consign 
civilized  man  once  more  to  a  state  of  barbarism.  Nor 
could  the  object  be  attained  for  any  length  of  time,  by 
all  the  exertions  that  man  could  make,  or  all  the  regu- 


510  THE   DAJSTGEE   OF   THE   LOVE   OF   EICHES. 

lations  whicli  a  o^overnment  could  frame.  And  for 
tMs  reason:  because  God  opposes  it  by  laws  wMcli 
man  cannot  subvert  or  control.  While  one  man  is 
born  with  bigber  degrees  of  intelligence  than  another, 
and  with  stronger  powers  of  body,  and  with  firmer 
health,  and  while  God  by  the  inscrutable  decisions  of 
his  Providence  j)resents  favorable  opportunities  to  one 
which  he  denies  to  another,  the  distinctions  of  poor 
and  rich  must  continue.  If  by  any  possibility  the 
wealth  of  a  community  could  be  equally  distributed 
amongst  its  members  in  the  present  year,  a  generation 
could  not  elapse  before  the  distinctions  between  them 
would  be  as  marked  as  they  are  now.  God  has  there- 
fore decreed,  and  for  wise  and  benevolent  purposes, 
doubtless,  that  the  rich  and  poor  shall  be  mingled 
together  throughout  the  land ;  and  he  does  not  require 
that  the  rich  man  should  make  himself  poor,  nor  that 
the  poor  should  withhold  any  honorable  and  righteous 
efforts  to  place  himself  amongst  the  wealthy. 

But  here  the  precept  of  the  text  interposes  its  cau- 
tion.    No  man  must  "  make  haste  "  to  be  rich, 

II.  Let  us  now,  therefore,  in  the  second  place,  in- 
quire what  is  intended  by  this  language.  It  obviously 
forbids  men  to  look  upon  wealth  as  their  sovereign 
good,  and  therefore  to  make  its  acquisition  the  chief 
end  of  life.  The  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it 
is  impelled,  as  by  necessity,  to  exert  itself  for  the  at- 
tainment of  that  which  it  esteems  best  calculated  to 
promote  its  happiness.  While  the  highest  happiness 
of  life,  then,  is  connected  with  the  possession  of  wealth, 


THE   DAl^GEE    OF   THE   LOVE   OF   EICHES.  511 

in  any  one's  imagination,  tliat  man  will  of  course  make 
Haste  to  be  ricli.  This  will  be  tlie  absorbing  desire  of 
Ms  heart,  the  grand  impulse  of  his  whole  existence. 
To  resist  it  would  be  to  keep  himself  in  a  constant 
state  of  painful  and  unnatural  restraint.  Religion, 
therefore,  seeks  to  correct  this  false  impression,  by- 
teaching  the  uncertain  and  unsatisfying  nature  of  this 
description  of  earthly  good,  and  by  showing  that  true 
and  permanent  happiness  can  be  obtained  only  by  de- 
voting the  heart  to  the  service  of  God.  "  Seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness."  This  is 
the  command  of  the  Gospel,  and  until  our  daily 
thoughts,  desires  and  actions  are  made  conformable  to 
it,  we  follow  a  vain  show,  and  disquiet  ourselves  in 
vain.  While  any  man  regards  wealth  as  being  essential 
to  his  enjoyment,  all  exhortations  addressed  to  him  to 
moderate  his  desires  for  it  and  to  brins;  his  efforts 
within  reasonable  bounds,  are  utterly  thrown  away. 
Say  what  you  will  to  him,  he  will  yet  continue  to  make 
himself  the  victim  of  labors,  cares,  anxieties.  He  can 
have  no  control  while  riches  are  not  within  his  grasp, 
nor  does  content  come  with  their  moderate  j^ossession, 
for  the  appetite  for  accumulation  is  insatiable  as  the 
grave.  While  prosperous,  he  is  absorbed  in  this  one 
pursuit ;  day  in  and  day  out,  week  day  and  Lord's  day, 
it  is  all  the  same.  The  week  day  he  labors  boldly  and 
in  pul^lic,  on  the  Lord's  day  with  the  shutters  of  his 
warehouse  and  the  door  of  his  counting-house  and 
office  closed  indeed,  but  still  he  labors  in  mind,  and 
perhaps  the  books  and  sheets  of  correspondence,  or  the 


512  THE   DA]SrGER   OF   THE   LOVE   OF   EICHES. 

forms  and  proceedings  of  tlie  courts  of  law  are  trans- 
ferred to  that  which  should  he  the  scene  of  rest  and 
peace  and  religious  meditation — his  home — and  then 
his  children  and  domestics  see  that  he  burns  unceasing 
incense  to  mammon,  and  pores  forever  upon  the  pages 
of  mammon's  records,  but  has  not  one  word  of  praise 
to  lift  up  to  the  true  God,  and  never  for  one  moment 
consults  the  oracles  of  true  wisdom.  Or  if  to  save  ap- 
pearances and  to  ease  some  compunctious  visitings  of 
conscience,  the  Bible  and  books  of  devotion  are  opened, 
the  heart  does  not  direct  the  eye,  the  thoughts  are  all 
away,  l^usy  with  the  world  and  its  employments,  and 
if  he  comes  to  the  house  of  God,  what  avail  him  its 
solemn  services  ?  he  has  brought  with  him  into  its 
sacred  enclosure  the  buyers  and  sellers,  the  money 
tables  and  the  exchangers,  and  confers  with  them  even 
there. 

How  many  are  there  of  whose  habitual  life  this  is 
no  extravagant  representation.  Such  is  their  estimate 
of  the  importance  of  wealth,  so  absolutely  essential  do 
they  regard  it  to  happiness,  that  in  their  exertions  to 
obtain  it,  they  will  sacrifice  to  it  the  peace  of  mind 
that  moderation  gives,  the  high  pleasures  of  intellectual 
improvement,  the  sweets  of  social  and  domestic  inter- 
course, often  the  invaluable  blessing  of  bodily  health, 
and  even  the  interests,  the  immeasurable  interests  of 
the  immortal  soul.  All  these  they  sacrifice,  perverse 
and  foolish  beings  that  they  are  ;  for  of  what  value  is 
life  deprived  of  these?  What  sources  of  happiness 
more  certain  and  enduring  than  these  could  all  the 


THE   DANGER    OF   THE   LOVE   OF    EICHES.  513 

gold  of  Opliir  purcliase  ?  These  may  all  be  held  in 
connection  with  rational  desires  and  well  regulated 
labors  for  wealth,  but  most  if  not  all  these  sources  are 
dried  up  to  him  who  makes  haste  to  be  rich.  Can  he, 
then,  be  innocent  ?  No ;  he  is  sunk  in  guilt,  in  deep 
guilt.  He  sins  against  his  heaven-born  mind,  he  sins 
against  his  social  affections,  he  sins  against  his  own 
soul,  and  he  sins  against  his  God ;  nay,  I  mistake,  he 
sins  not  against  his  god,  for  mammon  is  his  god ;  but 
he  sins  against  the  God  who  made  him,  who  would  re- 
deem and  save  him,  and  who  shall  one  day  judge  and 
condemn  him. 

III.  But  this  extravagant  estimate  of  wealth  leads 
to  other  evil  consequences  in  its  promptings  to  men  to 
make  haste  to  be  rich.  Does  it  not  tempt  to  un- 
righteous as  well  as  to  unreasonable  and  absorbing 
methods  of  acquiring  riches  ?  Do  we  not  find  here  a 
fruitful  and  wide-spread  source  of  iniquity?  What 
but  this  stimulates  the  robber  to  his  deeds  of  darkness, 
and  often  to  atrocious  murders  to  conceal  his  guilt  ? 
How  often  does  this  send  forth  the  midnio:lit  incendi- 
ary  to  his  work  of  devastation,  that  he  may  snatch  a 
small  but  quickly  gained  plunder  ?  But  these  are  in- 
stances which  excite  a  universal  horror  and  indigna- 
tion, and  here  we  need  raise  no  warning  voice  against 
such  deeds  of  iniquity.  But  ought  we  not  in  a  com- 
munity like  this,  to  speak  freely  and  without  disguise 
of  other  methods  by  which  unprincipled  men  seek  to 
gain  their  ends ;  methods  less  flagrant  in  the  eye  of 
the  law  and  in  the  judgment  of  society,  but  not  the 
33 


514  THE   DANGEE    OF   THE   LOVE   OF   ETCHES. 

less  acts  of  villainy  and  infractions  of  God's  commands  ? 
I  cannot  go  into  details.  This  is  not  tlie  snitable  place 
for  sucli  disclosures,  nor  does  the  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience of  one  in  my  position  give  the  ability  to  make 
them.  But  we  are  not  blind  to  what  is  passing  before 
us ;  we  are  not  deaf  to  the  rumors  which  from  time  to 
time  run  through  the  community.  What,  then,  are 
we  to  think  of  all  the  ordinary  frauds  of  business ;  of 
negotiations  cemented  in  falsehood  or  double-dealing ; 
of  all  those  schemes  of  delusion  which  entice  the  igno- 
rant and  unwary,  and  which  end  too  often  in  the  ruin 
of  every  individual  connected  with  them,  even  of  the 
designing  and  overreaching  speculators  by  whom  they 
were  devised  ?  What  are  we  to  think  of  all  the  name- 
less inventions  of  mercantile  cunning  of  which  we  hear 
in  connection  with  weights  and  measures,  and  the 
quality  of  fabrics,  and  frauds  upon  the  revenue,  and 
knavery,  and  corruption,  and  deceit,  and  peculation  in 
moneyed  institutions  ?  But  enough  of  this.  Little  as 
we  may  see  with  our  own  eyes,  we  hear  enough  to  sat- 
isfy us  that  there  are  those  around  us,  and  many  we 
fear  in  this  extended  community,  who  make  haste  to 
be  rich,  and  so  make  haste  that  in  their  transactions 
of  business  they  are  reckless  of  all  things,  but  detec- 
tion. Whence  does  this  arise  ?  The  Apostle  has  de- 
clared,— "  The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil." 

But  the  description  of  evil  I  have  just  alluded  to, 
although  we  have  reason  to  fear  but  too  prevalent,  is 
yet  not  so  common  as  the  one  of  which  I  would  now 
speak;  and  this  is,  that  in  making  haste  to  be  rich 


THE   DANGER   OF   THE   LOVE    OF   EICHES.  515 

men  are  tempted  to  hoard  up  their  gains  witli  siicli 
miserly  solicitude  that  little  or  nothing  can  be  drawn 
from  them  to  promote  works  of  charity  or  extensive 
benevolence.  I  do  not  think  that  this  vice  of  avarice 
is  by  any  means  a  distinguishing  feature  in  our  com- 
munity. There  are  indeed  disgraceful  instances  of  it 
here  as  every  where  else.  But  the  side  on  which  the 
great  majority  with  us  have  erred  has  been  profusion. 
Foolish  extravagance  and  ostentatious  display  is  the 
Yice  of  our  community.  And  to  gratify  this  low  and 
grovelling  taste  for  dress  and  equipage  and  costly  fur- 
nished habitations,  is  with  us  often  the  great  stimulus 
to  make  haste  to  be  rich.  But  this  is  not  the  error 
which  I  am  now  called  upon  to  reprove ;  let  it  meet 
with  its  just  condemnation  in  due  time. 

While,  however,  men  are  over  anxious  to  accumu- 
late, and  at  the  same  time,  perhaps,  too  profuse  in  ex- 
penditures for  worldly  purjDoses,  they  are  often  close 
handed  and  cold  hearted  towards  objects  of  real  utility 
and  benevolence.  Here  is  an  evil  the  existence  of 
which  none  can  deny  who  wUl  compare  the  gains  of 
such  a  community  as  ours  with  its  disbursements  for 
purposes  of  charity  and  public  utility.  We  cannot 
arrive,  indeed,  at  any  thing  like  an  exact  estimate  uj^on 
this  point.  But  we  can  approach  near  enough  to  draw 
a  rebuke  upon  us  for  withholding  from  God's  work,  so 
large  a  proportion  of  the  treasure  God  puts  into  our 
hands.  Look  at  the  j^ublic  revenues  of  this  great  city ; 
thence  infer  the  individual  profits  derived  from  busi- 
ness transactions  in  ordinary  times  of  prosperity ;  with 


516  THE   DANGER   OF   THE   LOVE   OF   EICHES. 

this  sum  compare  tlie  wliole  amount  you  may  know 
of,  and  tlie  whole  amount  you  can  reckon  up  by  apply- 
ing your  own  standard  of  contribution  to  others,  which 
is  given  for  charity  and  public  good  in  promoting  edu- 
cation, literature  and  the  useful  arts,  and  for  sustaining 
the  institutions  of  religion  amongst  ourselves,  and  send- 
ing them  to  the  destitute  of  our  own  and  foreign  lands ; 
and  then  say  if,  as  a  community,  we  do  not  make  haste 
to  be  rich,  and  so  make  haste  that  we  slight  our  obli- 
gations to  our  less  favored  brethren  of  the  human  fam- 
ily, and  forget  our  duty  to  our  God  as  the  stewards  of 
his  bounty. 

If  such,  my  brethren,  are  the  consequences, — and  I 
have  enumerated  but  a  small  portion  of  them,  and 
these  even  I  have  depicted  with  a  forbearing  pencil 
and  with  faint  colors, — if  such  are  the  consequences  re- 
sulting from  the  temper  of  mind  which  the  text  de- 
scribes in  short  but  expressive  words,  can  we  wonder 
that  it  should  fall  under  the  ban  of  God's  most  serious 
displeasure  ?  Can  we  wonder  that  it  should  be  the 
subject  of  such  frequent  warnings,  expostulations  and 
denouncings  in  the  Sacred  Scriptures  ?  Of  the  whole 
catalogue  of  human  sins,  the  most  dangerous,  the  most 
corrupting,  the  most  hostile  to  all  high  and  noble  pur- 
poses, and  to  all  generous  affections,  and  to  all  holy 
and  religious  influences,  is  the  love  of  money.  All 
other  sins  are  more  easily  dealt  with,  they  are  more 
open  to  rebuke,  and  the  conscience  of  the  delinquent 
sooner  comes  in  to  our  aid.  But  this  sin  can  be  cloaked 
and  covered  up  in  such  plausible  pretences,  it  can  as- 


THE   DANGER   OF   THE   LOVE    OF    RICHES.  517 

sume  to  itself  sncli  honorable  names,  it  can  array  sucli 
specious  arguments  in  its  defence,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
grapple  with  it  fairly.  It  can  speak  of  the  duty  of 
providing  for  one's  household ;  it  can  call  itself  pru- 
dence, economy,  self-denial ;  it  can  reason  about  the 
importance  to  the  community  of  masses  of  wealth,  and 
thus  confound  with  itself  virtuous  and  praiseworthy 
courses  of  proceeding,  and  righteous  and  honorable 
tempers  of  mind.  But  practice  dece23tion  as  he  wiU 
upon  his  own  heart,  and  labor  as  he  will  to  delude 
others,  the  man  who  makes  haste  to  be  rich  is  a  sinner 
in  the  sight  of  God,  and  should  be  despised  and  frowned 
upon  by  a  virtuous  community. 

The  oj)ulent  who  feel  their  responsibilities,  and 
acknowledge  that  they  are  the  stewards  of  God's  boun- 
ty, and  who  judiciously  and  generously  fulfil  the  duties 
of  their  station,  are  a  blessing  to  all  around  them. 
They  deserve  and  will  ever  receive  the  grateful  appro- 
bation of  their  fellow  men,  and  what  is  far  more  im- 
portant, the  satisfaction  of  an  approving  conscience, 
and  the  commendation  of  their  God,  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant ;  thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a 
few  things,  I  will  make  thee  ruler  of  many  things; 
enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  But  the  man 
who  is  affluent  and  useless  in  his  generation,  who  hoards 
for  hoarding  sake,  or  who  gains  that  he  may  spend  in 
selfish  extravagance,  "is  as  a  barren  mountain  oppress- 
irig  the  earth  with  its  burden  and  blasting  the  valley 
with  its  shade."  He  defeats  the  end  for  which  God 
appointed  him  to  wealth,  and  the  five  or  ten  talents 


518  THE   DANGER    OF   THE   LOYE   OF    RICHES. 

wliicli  lie  now  buries  in  the  earth,  shall  rise  to  his  ever- 
lasting condemnation.  The  gold  which  he  hugs  to 
himself  shall  eat  as  a  canker  into  his  soul,  and  destroy 
all  generous  affections  and  all  religious  influences.  He 
can  carry  nothing  of  it  with  him  when  he  goeth,  as  go 
he  must  to  his  grave  like  other  men;  naked  came  he 
into  the  world,  and  naked  must  he  depart  from  it ; 
and  naked  must  he  stand  before  his  Maker,  and  there, 
defenceless  and  unsheltered,  must  he  abide  the  blast- 
ing stroke  of  God's  displeasure,  and  the  curse  that 
shall  consign  him  to  his  everlasting  portion,  where  shall 
be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

Fly,  then,  oh!  fly  the  hateful  vice  of  inordinate 
desire  for  wealth  ;  be  content  with  moderate  measures 
of  it,  with  slow  and  well-earned  accumulations,  and 
make  to  yourselves  friends  of  the  unrighteous  mam- 
mon ;  where  your  treasure  is  there  will  your  heart  be 
also  ;  you  would  have  your  heart  in  heaven,  then  lay 
up  your  wealth,  give  it  to  the  keeping  of  your  Saviour, 
and  then  in  the  time  of  your  greatest  need  he  will  be 
your  surety,  and  when  the  earth  crumbles  and  the 
elements  melt  with  fervent  heat,  and  sinners,  and  idola- 
ters, aud  gold  worshippers,  are  awe-struck  and  con- 
founded, ye  shall  stand  erect  and  unhurt ;  ye  shall  be 
clothed  with  a  garment  above  all  price,  your  Saviour's 
righteousness,  and  ye  shall  be  led  by  him  to  the  city 
which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is 
God. 


CHRISTIAN  NURTURE  OF  CHILDREN. 


2  Timothy  hi.  14,  15. 

"  But  continue  thou  in  the  things  which  thou  hast  learned  and  hast 
been  assured  of,  knowing  of  whom  thou  hast  learned  them ;  And  that 
from  a  child  thou  hast  known  the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make 
thee  wise  unto  salvation  through  faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." 

To  be  able  to  look  up  to  virtuous  and  pious  parents 
as  the  source  of  our  being,  is  certainly  a  high  privi- 
lege, and  one  for  whicli  we  should  be  grateful,  as  we 
shall  also  without  doubt  be  answerable.  This  privi- 
lege the  youthful  Timothy,  the  first  Bishop  of  Ephesus, 
enjoyed.  The  Apostle  Paul  speaks  of  it  in  my  text, 
and  makes  it  a  part  of  his  argument  and  exhortation 
to  his  spiritual  son  to  perseverance  in  the  faithful  dis- 
charge of  his  responsible  trust.  He  had  before  alluded 
to  this  point,  and  in  the  earher  portion  of  the  Epistle 
he  makes  an  appeal  to  which  the  affections  of  Timothy 
must  have  been  quickly  responsive.  "  I  thank  God, 
when  I  call  to  remembrance  the  unfeigned  faith  that 
is  in  thee,  which  dwelt  first  in  thy  grandmother  Lois, 


520  CHRISTIAN   KUETUEE   OF    CHTLDEEN. 

and  thy  mother  Eunice ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  in 
tliee  also." 

Timothy,  then,  had  enjoyed  the  unspeakable  bene- 
fit of  early  religious  instruction,  and  the  Scriptures 
were  the  basis  of  this  instruction ;  and  for  it  he  was 
mainly  indebted  to  the  faithful  care  of  a  pious  mother. 
These  facts  may  direct  our  thoughts  to  some  profitable 
reflections. 

From  his  childhood  Timothy  had  "  known  the  Holy 
Scriptures."  It  is  obvious  that  in  these  Scriptures 
could  have  been  included  only  the  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  for  those  of  the  New  Testament  were  then 
only  in  process,  as  it  were,  of  composition.  But  of  those 
ancient  Scriptures,  the  Apostle  says  that  they  were 
able  to  make  the  student  of  them  wise  unto  salvation 
through  faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  They  were 
"  able  to  make  wise  unto  salvation."  They  had  within 
them  all  the  instruction  needful  to  prepare  the  mind 
of  the  Israelite  to  recognize,  and  excite  him  to  receive, 
Jesus  as  the  Messiah.  But  there  must  have  been  pa- 
tient industry  to  read,  unprejudiced  humility  to  accept, 
and  devout  faith  to  appropriate  their  teaching.  Those 
amongst  the  Jews,  therefore,  who  possessed  these  quali- 
fications, were  made  wise  unto  salvation ;  but  others, 
like  the  great  body  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  though 
professing  the  utmost  reverence  for  the  Scriptures,  and 
studying  them  with  the  greatest  care,  yet  they  j)ene- 
trated  no  farther  than  the  letter ;  the  spirit  they  could 
not,  because  they  would  not,  comprehend,  and  there- 


CHRISTIAlSr   NUETTJEE   OF   CHILDEEN.  521 

fore  tliey  rejected  Jesus  from  being  their  Messiali  to 
tlieir  own  fatal  condemnation. 

The  early  instruction  of  their  children  in  the  lead- 
ing facts  and  23rinciples  of  religion,  was  a  striking  fea- 
ture in  the  domestic  policy  of  the  Jews.  Their  histo- 
rian Josephus  states,  that  children  were  taught  in  the 
law  from  "  the  first  dawn  of  sense  and  reason  in  them." 
From  the  age  of  five  they  were  accustomed  statedly  to 
read  portions  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Indeed,  when 
we  call  to  mind  the  solemn  and  emphatic  injunctions 
of  Moses,  w^e  cannot  but  feel  assured  that  the  devout 
Israelite  must  ever  have  paid  special  attention  to  this 
duty.  "These  words  which  I  command  thee  this  day 
shall  be  in  thy  heart :  And  thou  shalt  teach  them  dili- 
gently unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when 
thou  sittest  in  thy  house,  and  when  thou  wulkest  by 
the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou 
risest  up.  And  thou  shalt  bind  them  for  a  sign  upon 
thy  hand,  and  they  shall  be  as  frontlets  between  thine 
eyes.  And  thou  shalt  write  them  upon  the  posts  of 
thy  house  and  on  thy  gates."  Thus  the  statutes,  ordi- 
nances, and  commandments  of  the  Lord,  were  to  be 
kept  in  the  closest  possible  connection  with  every  fam- 
ily of  God's  peculiar  people.  Not  only  were  they  to 
be  the  subject  of  early  and  stated  instruction  to  the 
children,  but  also  upon  every  suitable  occasion  they 
were  to  be  introduced  as  topics  of  familiar  conversa- 
tion. And  the  lessons  of  sacred  wisdom  thus  commu- 
nicated through  the  ear,  were  to  be  impressed  upon  the 
imagination  and  the  memory  by  the  quick  and  vivid 


522  CHEISTIAN   NUETUEE   OF   CHILDEEN. 

teacliing  of  tlie  eye.  The  very  posts  of  the  doors  and 
the  panels  and  bars  of  the  gates  were  to  be  made  as 
it  were  living  witnesses  of  the  truth,  to  hold  up  to  all 
who  went  in  or  out,  or  who  passed  by,  the  records  of 
God's  goodness,  or  the  precepts  of  his  wisdom.  And 
moreover,  the  better  to  accomplish  this  great  design 
of  richly  storing  the  youthful  mind  with  that  know- 
ledge of  events  and  principles  which  should  be  availa- 
ble in  leadino;  their  children  to  walk  in  all  the  com- 
mandments  and  ordinances  of  the  Lord  blameless,  their 
interest  was  to  be  excited  by  special  observances,  and 
when  the  son  asked  of  the  father,  "What  mean  the 
testimonies,  and  the  statutes,  and  the  judgments  which 
the  Lord  our  God  hath  commanded  you  ? "  the  father 
was  to  recount  their  past  history,  and  to  tell  them  of 
the  great  things  which  had  been  wrought  for  them, 
and  to  state  to  them  the  condition  alone  upon  which 
God  would  continue  his  favors  to  them,  namely,  obe- 
dience to  all  which  the  Lord  had  commanded. 

Such  were  the  provisions  made  under  the  Old  Tes- 
tament dispensation,  by  God's  own  appointment,  for  the 
effectual  communication  of  religious  instruction  to  the 
young.  That  the  necessity  for  such  instruction  under 
the  Gospel  is  equally  great,  no  one  will  deny,  nor  will 
it  be  denied  that  the  spirit  if  not  the  form  of  the  He- 
brew mode  of  domestic  teaching,  might  j^roiitably  be 
introduced  amongst  Christians. 

This,  therefore,  is  a  point  worthy  of  our  most  seri- 
ous consideration.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  impor- 
tance of  early  rehgious  training  would  be  generally 


CHEISTIAN   NURTUEE    OF   CHILDREN.  523 

underrated,  certainly  not  by  sucli  as  those  to  wliom  I 
now  speak,  wlien  tlie  question  is  made  one  of  discus- 
sion. I  take  it  for  granted  tkat  well  nigk  every  mem- 
ber of  any  congregation  of  professing  Christians  would 
readily  assent  to  every  proposition  that  might  be  laid 
down  touching  the  importance  of  imbuing  the  minds 
of  the  young  with  religious  principles.  But  come  to 
the  mode  in  which  this  should  be  done,  and  the  extent 
to  which  it  should  be  carried,  and  differences  of  opinion 
would  soon  be  discovered.  And  then,  as  to  excuses 
for  the  neglect  of  this  duty,  they  would  be  found 
in  any  number  and  variety.  Some  there  are  who 
think  that  the  child  should  be  left  to  form  its  own  un- 
biased judgment  upon  all  questions  connected  with  re- 
ligion, and  therefore  that  only  the  great  principles  of 
morality,  and  those  general  truths  of  religion  in  which 
almost  all  are  agreed,  should  form  the  subject  of  de- 
cided and  authoritative  teaching.  Others  take  a  higher 
ground,  and  will  contend  for  the  importance  of  com- 
municating to  the  young  all  that  is  included  under  the 
term  Evangelical  doctrine,  but  would  exclude  as  im- 
proper what  they  please  to  term  sectarian  or  denomi- 
national. But  in  contradistinction  to  these  opinions, 
or  any  modification  of  them,  I  would  contend,  that  the 
young  should  be  taught  fully,  clearly,  and  with  author- 
ity, all  that  the  Lord  hath  revealed  and  committed  to 
the  Church  for  the  purpose  of  being  conveyed  to  future 
generations  to  the  end  of  time,  and  that  this  instruc- 
tion should  be  commenced  at  a  period  as  early  as  the 
mind  is  capable  of  receiving  it.     And  moreover,  the 


524  CHEISTIAIT   NUETUKE   OF   CHILDEEN. 

example  of  those  Hebrew  parents  who  conformed  to 
the  directions  of  Moses  shoidd  be  followed,  and  atten- 
tion to  this  duty  should  be  unremitted :  "  Thou  shalt 
teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk 
of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thy  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and 
when  thou  risest  up."  Were  such  the  condition  of  the 
Church,  did  parents  thus  discharge  their  duty  to  their 
offspring,  how  altered  would  be  the  aspect  of  society ; 
what  distresses  should  we  escape,  what  blessings  should 
we  enjoy !  How  would  the  Church  become  strong  and 
active,  and  fully  awake  to  its  great  design  of  di'awing 
all  men  to  unity  in  the  faith  and  holiness  of  life  !  The 
coldness  of  zeal,  the  cai'elessness  of  living,  the  neglect 
of  sacred  ordinances,  the  unhappy  differences  of  opinion, 
the  angry  contentions  that  now  too  much  prevail 
amongst  us,  as  all  will  be  ready  to  acknowledge,  would 
soon  give  place  to  a  fervid  piety,  a  mutual  love,  a 
united  exertion  to  promote  the  interests  of  our  holy 
Church,  which  would  make  her  a  name  and  praise  to 
all  around.  I  say  that  we  need  early,  and  intelligent, 
and  earnest  instruction  to  l^e  given  to  children,  if  we 
would  see  such  a  glorious  consummation  to  take  place. 
But  it  will  be  said,  that  parents  in  general,  even 
supposing  them  to  be  possessed  of  the  proper  spirit, 
are  not  prepai'ed  thus  to  become  teachers  to  their  chil- 
dren in  sacred  things.  They  are  not  themselves  suffi- 
ciently grounded  in  a  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, they  have  not  formed  for  themselves  clear  and 
decided  opinions  upon  the  leading  truths  of  the  Gos- 


I 


CHRISTIAN   ISrURTURE    OF    CHILDEElSr.  525 

pel,  they  cannot  even  give  a  reason  for  the  limited 
measure  of  the  faith  that  is  in  them.  Thus  isrnorant 
and  unfurnished  themselves,  how  can  they  become 
teachers  and  dispensers  of  the  word  to  others?  That 
such  is  the  case  in  regard  to  many  who  find  themselves 
in  the  responsible  station  of  parents  is  indeed  true,  and 
were  not  such  the  lamentable  fact,  there  would  not  be 
the  necessity  which  I  now  strongly  feel  for  the  present 
exhortation.  How,  then,  is  the  evil  to  be  remedied? 
In  only  one  way.  By  having  the  minds  of  parents 
aroused  to  a  sense  of  their  responsibihties  and  their 
duties.  Many  of  them,  doubtless,  who  have  a  prevail- 
ing desire  to  do  right  by  their  children,  and  who  would 
rejoice  to  see  them  growing  up  in  the  nurture  and  ad- 
monition of  the  Lord,  yet  do  not  feel  that  they  possess 
the  knowledge  or  the  capacity  for  this  undertaking. 
They  now  feel  the  want  and  can  appreciate  the  value 
of  early  instruction,  and  had  they  been  trained  in  the 
ways  of  piety  in  their  youth,  they  could  now  under- 
stand how  to  give  this  discipline  to  their  children. 
Suffering  from  the  consequences  of  a  grievous  omission, 
will  they  not  be  solicitous  to  repair  it  ?  But  how  can 
this  be  done  ?  It  must  be  by  ourselves.  We  parents 
of  the  present  day  must  begin  the  reformation.  And 
the  improvement  judiciously  and  earnestly  begun  by 
ourselves,  may  go  on  and  extend  its  happy  influences 
at  each  succeeding  generation.  And  who  can  tell  what 
amount  of  good,  what  numbers  may  be  turned  unto 
righteousness,  by  even  one  parent  who  will  now  re- 
solve that  his  children  shall  not  experience  the  un- 


526  CHKISTIAN   JSrUETFEE   OF    CHILDKElSr. 

happy  deficiency   over   wliicli   lie   percliance   lias   to 
lament. 

To  mothers  are  these  considerations  more  particu- 
larly addressed.  Not  that  fathers  should  feel  any  less 
interest  in  them,  or  that  they  are  less  responsible  for 
the  discharge  of  this  duty.  But  the  fact  is,  that  in  the 
economy  of  domestic  life,  the  mother  enjoys  earlier  and 
better  opportunities,  if  she  is  not  under  earlier  and 
stronger  obligations  than  the  father,  to  engage  the  at- 
tention and  direct  the  discipline  of  the  youthful  mind 
and  affections.  In  the  Epistle  from  which  my  text  is 
taken,  the  Apostle  Paul  speaks  particularly  of  the 
mother  and  the  grandmother  of  Timothy,  while  no 
mention  is  made  of  his  father.  These  women,  eminent 
examples  of  piety  themselves,  we  have  every  reason  to 
believe  were  the  means  of  leading  Timothy  to  that 
early  knowledge  of  sacred  things  which  prepared  him 
for  the  station  which  he  filled  in  the  Church  of  God. 
And  the  history  of  all  ages,  and  the  biography  of  many 
of  those  men,  who  have  been  most  distinguished  for  the 
virtue  and  usefulness  of  their  lives,  bear  testimony  to 
the  controlling  infl.uence  of  a  mother's  character  and 
instructions.  It  is  she  who  sees  the  first  dawnings  of 
consciousness  in  the  infant  mind,  who  watches  the  de- 
velopment of  the  affections,  who  marks  the  earliest  in- 
dications of  native  depra\^ty  in  the  outbreaks  of  anger 
and  the  stubbornness  of  disobedience,  who  hears  and 
aids  the  strugglings  of  speech,  and  who,  during  the 
years  that  the  heart  is  most  susceptible  to  the  influence 
of  good  or  ill,  has  opportunities  without  number  to  get 


CHEISTIAIST   NURTUEE   OF    CHILDREN".  527 

the  nearest  approach  to  it  and  the  most  powerful  in- 
fluence over  it.  What  is  learned  while  the  •  mother 
has,  and  from  the  very  nature  of  her  relation  and  her 
duties  must  have,  principal  charge  and  direction  of  the 
young  immortal  being,  can  never  be  lost,  but  becomes 
so  incorporated  as  it  were  with  its  very  nature,  that 
not  time,  and  perhaps  not  eternity  even,  shall  separate 
the  union.  It  is  impossible  to  over-estimate  the  impor- 
tance of  the  examj^le,  the  teachings  and  the  prayers  of 
a  pious  mother,  upon  the  deportment  in  time  and  the 
destiny  in  eternity  of  the  child.  And  equally  diffi- 
cult would  it  be  to  sum  up  the  amount  of  vice  and 
wretchedness  justly  attributable  to  the  neglect  or  the 
positive  wickedness  of  maternal  training.  The  ad- 
vancement of  any  generation  in  virtue  and  happiness, 
the  progress  of  the  Church  in  the  godliness  of  its  mem- 
bers, depends  more  upon  the  mothers  of  that  generation 
and  that  Church  than  upon  all  other  human  influences 
combined.  And  therefore  to  mothers  must  society 
and  the  Church  look  with  an  eager  soHcitude,  and 
say,  ye  are  the  eartbly  keepers  of  our  prosperity  and 
happiness. 

As  I  have  before  intimated,  however,  fathers  can- 
not be  relieved  from  the  heavy  responsibility  of  bring- 
ing up  their  childi'en  to  a  knowledge  of  God  and  his 
Word.  The  Apostle  Paul,  in  his  admirable  recapitu- 
lation of  the  relative  duties,  addresses  himself  particu- 
larly to  the  father, — "  Ye  fathers,  provoke  not  your 
children  to  wrath :  but  bring  them  up  in  the  nurture 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord."     When  the  relio^ious 


528  CHEISTIAlSr   NTJETUEE    of   CHILDEEIS". 

opinions  of  parents  coincide,  and  when  both  are  ani- 
mated with  an  intelHgent  zeal  for  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  their  children,  how  happy  the  influence  and  how 
beautiful  the  example  of  such  a  household.  But  we 
are  constrained  with  sorrow  to  acknowledge  that  such 
instances  are  not  the  general  rule  of  our  communities, 
but  the  exception.  When  it  happens  that  there  is 
coldness  and  indifference  to  rehgion  on  the  part  of  the 
father,  and  much  more  when  there  is  opposition  to  it, 
accompanied  with  an  immoral  life,  most  distressing  is  the 
situation  of  a  pious  and  affectionate  mother.  Still  she 
will  not  despond,  or  distrust  the  mercy  of  God.  He 
who  can  cause  the  light  to  spring  out  of  darkness  and 
the  good  to  come  forth  from  evil,  does  often  produce 
the  most  favorable  effects  upon  the  youthful  mind  by 
the  combined  operation  of  the  training  of  a  meek,  affec- 
tionate and  prayerful  mother,  and  the  harsh  discij^line 
and  warning  example  of  a  passionate,  intemperate  or 
godless  father.  But  if  we  desire  the  happuiess  of  the 
ypung,  and  the  improvement  of  the  social  state,  let 
such  be  the  combination  rather  than  that  of  the  pious 
father  and  the  uTeligious,  the  depraved,  or  the  intem- 
perate mother.  Let  her  who  gives  of  her  very  heart's 
blood  for  food  to  the  feeble  body  of  the  infant,  and 
under  whose  eye  and  within  whose  influence  its  facul- 
ties and  affections  are  first  opened  and  begin  their  ex- 
ercise, let  her  be  pure  in  life,  devoted  in  love,  constant 
in  watching  and  warning,  and  faithful  and  ardent  in 
prayer,  and  we  will  look  with  a  cheering  hope  to  the 


CHRISTIAN   NURTURE   OF   CniLDREN.  529 

future  as  regards  her  cliildreu,  to  whatever  of  evil  in- 
fluence tliey  may  elsewhere  be  exposed. 

The  Sacred  Scriptures,  then,  being  the  great  source 
of  religious  instruction,  and  parents,  and  more  especial- 
ly mothers,  the  most  efficient  instrument  for  imparting 
it,  the  Church  in  discharge  of  the  solemn  trust  com- 
mitted to  it,  "  Feed  my  lambs,"  has  special  reference 
to  these  considerations.  The  Church,  the  spiritual 
mother  of  the  heirs  of  salvation,  is  ready  to  receive 
into  her  lovino-  and  fosterino;  arms  the  immortal  beinof 
as  soon  as  it  breathes  the  breath  of  life.  And  during 
this  period  of  helplessness,  blindness  and  unconscious- 
ness, she  protects  them  from  the  spiritual  enemy  and 
keeps  them  in  safety.  The  moment  they  are  offered 
to  her,  she  washes  them  in  the  regenerating  waters  of 
baptism,  and  conveys  to  them  the  Holy  Spirit  to  make 
them  members  of  Christ,  children  of  God,  and  heirs  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And  in  her  daily  prayers  she 
commends  them  to  the  protection  of  Almighty  God. 
If  they  die  ere  they  are  capable  of  committing  actual 
transgression,  she  commits  them  to  the  ground  in  the 
sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  joyful  immortality,  where  their 
early  training  shall  not  be  in  this  world  of  sin  and  sor- 
row, and  amongst  the  corrupting  influences  of  fallen 
man,  but  in  the  blissful  realms^  above,  and  in  the  blessed 
company  of  angels  and  just  men  made  perfect.  If, 
however,  they  arrive  at  a  period  when  they  can  com- 
prehend the  nature  of  their  Christian  obligations,  then 
a  solemn  charge  is  given  both  to  their  natural  parents 
and  to  their  god-parents  to  proxdde  that  they  may 
34 


530  CHEISTIAISr   NUKTUEE    OF    CHILDEEN^. 

learn  tlie  Creed,  tlie  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments, and  all  other  things  which  a  Christian 
ought  to  know  and  believe  to  his  soul's  health. 

Thus  does  the  Church  manifest  her  solicitude  that 
her  children  should  have  the  full  benefit  that  Timothy 
enjoyed,  who  from  a  child  had  known  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, which  are  able  to  make  wise  unto  salvation 
throuo:h  faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  And  how  ad- 
mirably  adapted  is  the  order  of  the  Church's  services 
to  accomplish  this  purpose.  All  the  great  facts  and 
doctrines  of  religion  are  brought  forward  in  due  and 
beautiful  order,  and  impressed  upon  the  mind  by  aj)- 
propriate  ordinances.  And  thus  if  the  young  amongst 
us  are  excited  to  inquire,  as  they  did  amongst  the 
Israehtes,  What  mean  ye  by  these  statutes  and  ordi- 
nances ?  what  a  most  favorable  opportunity  for  parents, 
as  the  ecclesiastical  year  rolls  round,  to  give  to  them 
the  valuable  knowledge  which  is  able  to  make  them 
wise  unto  salvation  I 

In  conclusion,  then,  I  exhort  you,  parents,  to  adopt 
this  course,  assured  that  it  will  be  attended  with  the 
most  favorable  results.  Begin  at  the  earliest  possi- 
ble period  to  bring  the  Church's  discipline  to  bear 
upon  your  children.  Do  not  trust  to  vague  and  in- 
definite teachings  in  general  principles,  but  imbue  the 
minds  of  your  children  with  the  Church's  faith,  and 
the  Church's  worship.  Earnestly  desire  that  they  may 
know,  as  fast  as  they  are  able  to  comprehend,  what  all 
these  things  mean.  For  this  purpose  prepare  your- 
selves with  the  knowledge,  if  unhappily  ye  possess  it 


CHEISTIAISr   IfUETUEE   OF    CHILDKEN.  531 

not.  Consider  tlie  sacred  trust  that  was  committed  to 
you,  when  God  honored  you  by  making  you  the  instru- 
ments of  calling  into  being  those  who  may  become  his 
own  attending  angels :  consider  the  awful  responsibility 
that  you  have  assumed,  and  the  consequences  that  may 
follow  to  them,  and  will  most  assuredly  follow  to  you, 
for  your  delinquency.  And  may  God  of  his  mercy 
enable  us  of  the  present  generation  so  to  bring  up  our 
children  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord, 
that  the  coming  generation  may  be  wiser,  holier,  hap- 
pier than  ourselves,  and  nearer  to  bringing  about  that 
blessed  state  when  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  shall 
fill  the  earth  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea  ! 


GOD'S  FAVORS  BESTOWED  ACCORDING  TO 
OUR  EAITH. 


Mark  vi.    5,   6. 

"And  he  could  there  do  no  mighty  work,  save  that  he  laid  his  hands 
upon  a  few  sick  folk,  and  healed  them.  And  he  marvelled  because  of 
their  unbelief" 

The  place,  wliicli  was  tlius  cut  off  from  beholding 
tlie  miraculous  power  of  Christ,  is  precisely  the  one 
that  we  should  imagine  would  have  been  destined  to 
participate  most  largely  in  this  privilege.  It  was  Naza- 
reth, where  the  greater  portion  of  his  life  on  the  earth 
was  passed,  and  which,  on  this  account,  is  styled  "his 
own  country."  Had  our  Lord's  mission  been  favorably 
received  there,  his  relatives  according  to  the  flesh,  and 
the  associates  of  his  youth,  would  naturally  have  been 
favored  with  frequent  exhibitions  of  his  mighty  works. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  they  harbored  doubts  as  to  his 
Divine  character,  we  should  suppose  that  he  would 
be  peculiarly  anxious  to  overcome  prejudices  arising 
in  such  a  quarter,  by  signal  and  accumulated  displays 


GODS   FAVORS   BESTOWED,    ETC.  533 

of  tlie  miraculous  power  witli  wliicli  he  was  invested. 
"We  are  informed,  however,  that  this  very  skepticism 
which  prevailed  in  Nazareth  was  the  reason  why  Jesus 
held  so  httle  intercourse  with  its  inhabitants,  after  he 
once  entered  upon  the  discharge  of  his  ministry,  and 
why  "  he  could  there  do  no  mighty  work,"  save  the 
healing  of  a  few  sick  folk. 

To  infer  from  the  expression,  "he  could  there  do 
no  mighty  work,"  that  credulity  on  the  part  of  the 
witnesses  of  the  miracles  was  necessary  to  their  full 
effect,  would  be  infidelity ;  because  this  would  imply 
that  they  were  deceptive  in  their  nature,  and  that  the 
fraud  could  be  detected  by  a  close  scrutiny.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt,  that  he 
who  stilled  the  ras-insf  elements,  and  raised  the  dead  to 
life,  by  a  single  word,  could  have  performed  works  in 
Nazareth,  had  he  chosen  to  do  so,  that  would  have 
confounded  the  most  obstinate  prejudice,  and  the  most 
hardened  skepticism.  Some  exj^lanation,  therefore, 
seems  to  be  needed,  which  may  free  this  passage  of 
Scripture  from  the  difficulties  with  which  it  might  be 
embarrassed  from  a  superficial  reading.  Such  expla- 
nation it  will  be  the  design  of  this  discourse  to  offer,  as 
a  preparation  for  the  practical  use  to  which  it  is  my 
intention  to  apply  it. 

It  will  at  once  be  conceded  by  every  believer  in 
Divine  Eevelation,  that  the  cause  why  our  blessed 
Saviour  could  do  no  mighty  work  in  Nazareth,  did  not 
proceed  from  any  limitation  of  his  power  and  authori- 
ty.    As  far  as  dei^ended  on  himself,  he  could  have 


534  god's  favoes  bestowed 

wrouglit  tliere  tlie  miracles  that  astonislied  other 
places,  and  produced  conviction  on  multitudes  of  those 
who  witnessed  them.  If  opportunities  for  changing 
the  water  into  wine,  for  multiplying  the  loaves  and  the 
fishes,  or  for  controlling  the  elements,  had  not  pre- 
sented themselves,  he  could  easily  have  produced  them, 
or  he  could  have  availed  himself  of  others  that  must 
often  have  occurred,  equally  adapted  to  manifest  his 
absolute  control  over  the  laws  of  nature.  We  are  led, 
then,  to  look  for  another  cause  why  Nazareth  was  less 
favored  than  other  places  in  regard  to  the  exhibition 
of  miraculous  j)ower.  And  we  shall  find  it  in  the 
character  and  conduct  of  the  people  themselves. 

These,  the  townsmen  of  the  Saviour,  had  suffered 
their  moral  perceptions  to  be  perverted  by  a  violent 
and  unjust  prejudice  against  the  person  of  our  Lord. 
During  the  greater  part  of  his  pre\dous  life,  Jesus 
had  resided  amongst  them  ;  and  from  the  fact  that  the 
sacred  historians  are  perfectly  silent  concerning  him 
between  the  age  of  twelve,  when  he  appeared  before 
the  doctors  in  the  temj^le,  and  that  of  thirty,  when  he 
entered  upon  his  ministry,  we  must  infer  that  he  lived  in 
great  retirement.  He  was  known  only  as  "  the  carpen- 
ter, the  son  of  Mary."  When  the  time  had  come  at 
which  he  was  to  begin  the  great  work  which  was  the 
object  of  his  incarnation,  he  left  Nazareth  and  went  to 
be  baptized  of  John  in  Jordan.  He  then  began  to 
preach  in  the  cities  of  Galilee,  and  to  display  his 
wonderful  power.  Having  now  fairly  commenced  his 
mission  and  gathered  disci^^les,  he  returned  to  his  own 


ACCORDmG   TO    OUR   FAITH,  535 

country,  to  give  those  with  whom  he  had  been  brought 
up  from  his  youth,  the  oj)portunity  of  becoming  his 
disciples.  For  this  purpose,  on  the  Sabbath  after  his 
return,  he  went  into  the  synagogue  and  began  to  teach. 
And  many  hearing  him  were  astonished  at  his  doc- 
trine. 

But  what  further  effect  was  produced  upon  them  ? 
Did  they  inquire  into  its  truth  ?  Did  they  examine 
the  Scriptures  to  see  if  these  things  were  so  ?  Did 
they  yield  their  belief  to  the  well  attested  accounts 
of  the  mighty  works  which  were  related  to  them,  and 
solicit  with  a  tractable  and  candid  state  of  mind  that 
they  also  might  have  the  privilege  of  beholding  these 
things  ?  Far  from  it.  With  a  captious  and  j)rejudiced 
spirit  they  said,  From  whence  hath  this  man  these 
things  ?  and  what  wisdom  is  this  which  is  given  unto 
him,  that  even  such  mighty  works  are  wrought  by  his 
hands  ?  "  Is  not  this  the  carpenter,  the  son  of  Mary, 
the  brother  of  James,  and  Joses,  and  of  Juda,  and 
Simon  ?  and  are  not  his  sisters  here  with  us  ?  And 
they  were  offended  at  him." 

Had  he  come  from  Jerusalem,  from  the  feet  of 
some  renowned  Rabbi,  they  would  doubtless  have 
given  him  a  different  reception.  But  they  would  give 
no  honor  to  the  proj)het  who  had  been  brought  uj) 
amongst  them.  They  were  astonished  indeed  at  his 
doctrine,  and  could  not  forbear  acknowledging  the 
wisdom  with  which  he  spake ;  but  from  whence,  they 
demanded,  from  whence  hath  this  man  these  things  ? 
But  not  with  the  intention  or  the  wish  to  pursue  this 


536  god's  favors  bestowed 

inquiry  did  they  make  the  demand.  It  was  the  ex- 
clamation of  contempt  and  anger,  and  predetermined 
infidelity.  And  therefore  Jesus  could  there  do  no 
mighty  works,  except  indeed  that  finding  amongst  the 
mass  of  this  prejudiced  and  unreasonable  people  some 
few  sick  folk,  that  had  faith  in  his  word  and  power, 
he  laid  his  hands  upon  them  and  healed  them. 

There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  any  exhibition 
of  miraculous  power  would  have  wrought  conviction 
in  the  inabitants  of  Nazareth.  They  who  could  shut 
their  ears  to  the  words  of  him  who  spake  as  never 
man  spake,  because  he  was  the  carpenter,  the  son  of 
Mary,  and  they  had  known  him  from  his  youth,  would 
also  have  closed  their  eyes  to  his  miracles,  or  have  said, 
"  he  casteth  out  devils  through  Beelzebub  the  prince 
of  the  devils." 

The  reason  then  why  the  inhabitants  of  Nazareth 
lost  the  privilege  and  advantage  of  witnessing  mii'a- 
cles,  was,  that  they  gave  themselves  up  to  an  obstinate 
incredulity.  Jesus,  it  is  said,  "  marvelled  at  their  un- 
behef "  Not  that  we  are  to  infer  that  he  who  pos- 
sessed the  mind  of  omniscience  could  be  astonished  at 
any  thing  ai!s  unexj^ected  or  as  exceeding  his  concep- 
tion ;  but  that  sentiment  was  figuratively  ascribed  to 
him,  which  would  literally  have  been  excited  in  one 
who  was  only  man. 

Now  in  this  instance  of  the  people  of  Nazareth, 
we  find  an  illustration  of  an  important  principle 
which  governs  the  dealings  of  God  with  the  children 
of  men.     One,  too,  which  it  behooves  us  to  under- 


ACCOEDING    TO    OUR   FAITH.  537 

stand  and  keep  in  mind,  lest  we  also  fail  of  obtaining 
spiritual  privileges  througli  our  own  indiiference  or 
incredulity.  God  has  been  pleased  to  endow  man 
witli  freedom  of  will,  and  lias  placed  within  his  reach 
blessings  of  various  kinds,  the  possession  of  which  is 
contingent  upon  his  own  exertions.  In  all  that  relates 
to  the  aftairs  of  this  life,  men  act  upon  the  conviction 
that  this  is  true  ;  and  no  one  in  his  senses,  being  desti- 
tute of  knowledge,  or  wealth,  or  any  earthly  good, 
would  expect  to  obtain  it  independently  of  his  own 
will  and  his  own  work.  But  these  put  into  action,  the 
will  prompting  and  continuing  the  work,  what  marvels 
are  often  brought  to  pass  !  What  stores  of  wisdom 
or  heaps  of  riches  are  often  gathered  together  by  the 
efforts  of  a  single  determined  and  pei'severing  mind  ! 
And  yet  who  doubts  that  the  Almighty  Dispenser  is 
the  true  and  ultimate  Source  whence  any  man  has  ob- 
tained whatever  he  may  possess  ?  To  those  who  will 
not  use  their  faculties,  who  will  not  strive  to  hear  and 
see  and  understand,  it  may  be  said  that  God  cannot 
give  knowledge,  nor  to  the  idle  and  the  wasteful  can 
he  give  riches.  Not,  of  course,  that  he  has  not  the 
'power.  He  manifests  this  power  in  the  mysterious 
exceptions  which  he  sometimes  makes  to  his  own 
laws,  giving  to  a  few  the  inspii'ation  of  genius,  and 
thus  enabling  them  to  produce,  without  apparent 
effort,  that  which  no  amount  of  labor  on  the  part  of 
others  could  accomplish,  and  pouring  upon  a  few, 
treasures  of  gold,  amassed  by  no  toil  of  their  own, 
and  preserved  by  no  forecast  of  their  own.     The  rea- 


538  god's  favoks  bestowed 

sons  for  these  departures  from  his  own  general  law  the 
Supreme  reserves  to  himself,  and  presumptuous  and 
unavailing  would  it  be  in  finite  man  to  attempt  to  scan 
them.  But  the  law  itself  is  well  defined  and  fully 
proclaimed,  and  by  this  law  men  are  to  regulate  their 
conduct ;  and  foolish  and  sinful  is  it  in  them  to  permit 
themselves  to  be  drawn  aside  by  its  exceptions.  The 
law  is,  that  objects  desirable  in  life  are  to  be  attained 
by  well  directed  and  adequate  exertions.  And  in  con- 
formity with  this  law,  God  can  do  no  mighty  works  in 
relation  to  his  tem]3oral  condition  in  this  world  for 
any  man  who  does  not  believe  that  success  is  contin- 
gent upon  his  own  exertions,  and  who  does  not  act  ac- 
cordingly. 

This  self-same  principle  enters  also  largely  into  the 
government  of  Grod  over  ma,n  in  his  spiritual  relations. 
The  co-operation  of  man  with  the  providence  of  God 
is  here  equally  essential  to  the  production  of  any 
striking  or  important  result.  The  age  of  j^hysical 
miracles  has  indeed  long  since  passed  away,  and  we 
have  no  reason  to  believe  that  any  readiness  of  faith 
would  now  have  the  effect  to  reproduce  them,  because 
their  great  object  has  been  accomplished.  But  won- 
derful works,  moral  miracles,  have  been  and  are  yet 
performing  amongst  men.  And  the  reason,  doubtless, 
why  they  are  not  more  frequent  and  more  astonishing 
is  precisely  the  same  which  precluded  the  inhabitants 
of  Nazareth  from  beholding  the  mighty  works  of 
Christ.  It  is  the  unbelief  of  men.  God  is  now,  as  he 
was  then,  ready  to  make  his  presence  and  his  j)ower 


ACCORDIlSrG   TO    OUR   FAITH.  539 

manifest  to  the  sons  of  men.  But  now,  as  tlien,  there 
must  be  on  their  part  the  appropriate  temper  of  mind. 
It  has  ever  been  so,  and  ever  must  continue  to  be  so, 
while  the  government  of  God  is  conducted  by  moral 
means ;  and  man  is  made  justly  accountable,  because 
he  is  free  to  choose,  or  to  refuse,  the  good  proffered  to 
him. 

In  the  history  of  our  Lord's  miracles  while  he 
tabernacled  with  sinful  flesh,  there  was  always  sup- 
posed, and  very  often  demanded,  on  the  part  of  those 
w^ho  were  to  receive  the  benefits  of  them,  this  trustful 
and  submissive  faith.  When  the  father  of  the  lunatic 
child  besought  Jesus  to  have  compassion  upon  him  and 
his  afflicted  son,  Jesus  replied,  "  If  thou  canst  believe, 
all  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth."  The 
power  of  healing  existed  in  Jesus,  but  its  exercise,  in. 
this  case,  was  made  dependent  upon  the  father's  faith. 
And  when  he  said,  with  tears,  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help 
thou  mine  unbelief,"  the  true  temper  of  a  petitioner 
for  the  Divine  interposition  was  manifested  in  him,  and 
the  blessing  he  so  earnestly  implored  was  granted. 
Again,  when  two  blind  men  followed  Jesus,  crying 
and  saying.  Thou  Son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  us, — 
Jesus,  before  yielding  to  their  entreaty,  catechised  them 
upon  their  faith.  Believe  ye  that  I  am  able  to  do 
this,  said  he  ?  They  did  believe  ;  and  when  they  re- 
plied, Yea  Lord,  then  touched  he  their  eyes,  saying. 
According  to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you.  And  their 
eyes  were  opened.  So  also  when  St.  Paul  was  preach- 
ing at  Lystra,  and  the  cripple  from  his  mother's  womb. 


540  god's  favoes  bestowed 

wlio  never  had  walked,  was  one  of  his  attentive  hear- 
ers ;  the  Apostle  looking  on  him,  and  perceiving  that 
he  had  faith  to  be  healed,  said,  with  a  loud  voice, 
"  Stand  upright  on  thy  feet."  And  he  leaped  and 
walked.  The  miracle  working  power  was  in  the 
Apostle,  and  was  ready  to  be  exercised  on  any  suitable 
occasion  or  subject.  The  teachable  and  candid  frame 
of  mind  with  which  the  cripple  had  listened  to  the 
word  preached,  and  the  nascent  faith  which  it  had 
produced  in  his  heart,  rendered  him  a  proper  sub- 
ject for  the  exercise  of  Divine  mercy,  and  bodily  facul- 
ties which  he  had  never  before  possessed,  were  at  once 
given  to  him  as  a  reward. 

In  these  instances  there  is  a  clear  declaration  of 
the  condition  upon  which  God  will  dispense  his  favors 
to  men.  We  have  said  that  interruptions  of  the  order 
of  nature,  or  the  exhibition  of  physical  miracles,  is  no 
longer  to  be  expected.  But  even  in  the  case  of  human 
infirmities  in  the  present  day,  we  want  not  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  great  principle  for  which  we  are  arguing. 
The  healing  of  bodily  maladies  has  been  committed  to 
the  ministration  of  man  in  the  use  of  appointed  means. 
The  blind  eye  can  yet  be  restored  to  sight,  and  the 
cripple  can  be  made  to  walk.  But  if  through  obstinate 
prejudice  or  unbelief  the  unhappy  victims  of  such 
afflictions  will  scorn  the  discoveries  of  science,  and  resist 
the  exercise  of  human  skill,  they  are  inevitably  doomed 
to  grope  their  way,  or  drag  along  their  deformity, 
through  the  world. 

For  spiritual  blindness,  and  inability  to  walk  cheer- 


ACCORDING   TO    OUR   FAITH.  541 

fully  and  strongly  along  tlie  way  that  leadeth  unto 
life,  there  is  also  an  appointed  and  a  more  certain  cure. 
The  great  Physician  of  souls  is  ever  ready  to  admin- 
ister it.  But  there  must  be  faith  in  his  skill,  and  wil- 
lingness to  submit  to  it,  or  no  man  can  be  healed.  If 
he  denies  that  he  is  the  subject  of  a  moral  deformity, 
then  of  course  he  will  have  no  inducement  to  seek 
relief  from  it.  If,  experiencing  its  painful  effects,  he 
yet  doubts  whether  there  is  balm  in  Gilead  or  a  phy- 
sician there,  he  may  remain  hoping,  and  perhaps  de- 
siring a  cure,  but  none  will  be  found.  He  must  come 
with  a  submissive  faith,  and  yield  himself  up  to  an 
ap23ointed  treatment,  or  still  carry  in  his  soul  its  spirit- 
ual infirmities.  The  restoration  of  a  soul  blind  or 
crippled  by  reason  of  sin  is  a  mighty  work,  none  but 
Almighty  power  can  effect  it.  But  the  exercise  of  this 
power  is  contingent  upon  the  sufferer's  own  conscious- 
ness of  malady  and  earnest  desire  of  relief.  Where 
these  tempers  exist,  God  does  yet  and  ever  will  show 
forth  his  mighty  power,  and  the  blind  shall  see  and 
the  lame  shall  walk. 

The  doctrine  thus  briefly  stated  and  ex23lained  is 
full  of  important  suggestion  and  reproof  It  shows  us 
why  it  is  not  now,  as  of  old,  when  the  Lord  added  to 
the  Church  daily  such  as  should  be  saved,  and  why 
the  power  of  the  Gospel  is  not  more  strikingly  mani- 
fested in  the  lives  and  characters  of  the  disciples  of 
Christ ;  why  indeed  miracles,  such  as  the  conversion 
of  thousands  under  the  influence  of  a  single  exhibition 
of  Divine  truth,  are  not  still  j^erformed.     God  is  not 


542 


unwilling  to  promote  his  work  ;  lie  lias  not  become  in- 
different to  the  salvation  of  the  lost  sons  of  Adam. 
Far  be  from  us  such  an  impious  thought.  But  as  the 
Prophet  said  to  the  rebellious  Israelites,  so  to  us  with 
equal  truth  may  it  be  proclaimed,  "Your  iniquities 
have  turned  away  these  things,  and  your  sins  have 
withholden  good  things  from  you."  God  for  ever 
waits  to  be  gracious.  The  Saviour's  reproof  is  still 
deserved,  "  Ye  will  not  come  unto  me  that  ye  might 
have  life."  He  cannot  be  gracious  to  the  evil  and  the 
unthankful ;  he  cannot  give  spiritual  life  to  those  who 
obstinately  refuse  to  go  forth  from  the  chambers  of 
death  and  seek  for  it.  He  cannot,  because  he  will  not, 
violate  those  laws  which  he  has  righteously  ordained. 

Mighty  works  are  still,  as  it  were,  hanging  over  us, 
ready  to  be  performed  amongst  us ;  as  the  wonderful 
union,  peace  and  extension  of  the  Church,  the  won- 
derful manifestation  of  Divine  love  in  each  one  of  our 
hearts,  leading  each  one  of  us  to  exhibit  the  beauty 
of  holiness  in  a  consistent,  godly  life.  That  these,  and 
other  untold  and  unimagined  spiritual  blessings,  which 
would  make  our  Church  like  the  holy  city  New 
Jerusalem,  coming  down  from  God  out  of  heaven,  and 
ourselves  a  rejoicing  people  walking  in  the  light  of  the 
Lord, — that  these  ai-e  withheld  from  us  only  by  our 
own  want  of  desire  and  exertion  for  them,  is  no  less 
true  than  grievous  to  be  thought  of  It  is  the  lack 
of  undoubting  faith  and  earnest  prayer.  These,  these 
alone  are  the  obstacles  to  the  outpouring  of  God's 
favors  in  richest  profusion. 


ACCOEDING    TO    OUE   FAITH.  543 

Let  this  conviction  then  sharpen  our  repentance  for 
past  neglect  and  coldness,  and  let  it  quicken  us  to  live- 
lier and  more  hearty  faith,  and  to  the  exercises  of  a 
more  devout  life.  When  these  are  the  characteristics 
of  the  Church  of  Christ,  then  will  all  his  great  and 
glorious  promises  be  fulfilled  ;  she  shall  look  forth  as 
the  morning,  fair  as  the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and 
terrible  as  an  army  with  banners  ;  but  till  then  her 
sky  shall  be  clouded,  and  her  sun  and  moon  shall  not 
give  their  light,  and  her  hosts  shall  not  be  marshalled 
to  go  forth  in  firm  array  and  fight  the  battles  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty. 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  FOR  OUR  FAITH  * 


Romans   x.    10. 
"  "With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness." 

This  form  of  expression  is  peculiai',  and,  as  applied 
to  represent  the  nature  of  that  essential  principle  of 
all  religion,  faith,  is  in  a  remarkable  degree  significant. 
With  the  heart  man  believeth.  Faith  is  usually  rep- 
resented as  an  act  of  the  understanding,  and  by  some, 
too,  it  has  been  supposed  that  it  is  an  act  in  regard  to 
which  the  understanding  exercises  little  or  nothing  of 
free  agency.  We  cannot  refuse  our  assent,  they  argue, 
to  a  proposition,  when  the  terms  in  which  it  is  ex- 
pressed, and  the  demonstration  by  which  it  is  sustained, 
are  both  fully  comprehended.  Hence  these  persons 
will  contend  that  they  are  not  responsible  for  their  un- 
belief, and  in  reply  to  every  exhortation,  "  have  faith," 

*  Preached  at  Haverstraw,  Aug,  27th,  1854,  the  last  Visitation  made 
by  Bishop  "Wainwright. 


OUE   EESPONSIBILITY   FOE    OUE   FAITH.  545 

tliey  say,  give  us  a  demonstration,  and  our  Ijelief  will 
be  inevitable.  We  assert,  on  tlie  otlier  Land,  that 
every  man  is  strictly  responsible  for  bis  faitb,  inasmuch 
as  faitb  is  made  the  condition  of  salvation ;  and  as  sal- 
vation is  a  blessing  offered  to  man  for  bis  acceptance 
or  rejection,  it  would  be  utterly  inconsistent  witb  tbe 
goodness  and  justice  of  God  to  propose  a  condition  tbat 
is  not  subject  to  tbe  exercise  of  man's  free  agency.  A 
fair  exposition  of  our  text,  we  tbink,  will  place  tbis 
question  in  a  clear  and  satisfactory  point  of  view. 

On  tbe  face  of  it,  tbe  text  seems  to  imply  tbat  tbe 
affections^  ratber  tban  tbe  understanding^  bave  tbe 
cbief  agency  in  producing  belief.  Tbe  trutb  is,  bow- 
ever,  tbat  in  order  to  orig^inate  and  maintain  tbe  men- 
tal  state  wbicb  tbe  Gospel  designates  "  faitb,"  both  tbe 
understanding  and  tbe  affections  must  be  called  into 
exercise.  And  tbe  declaration  of  St.  Paul  unquestion- 
able goes  tbis  lengtb,  for  in  Sci'ipture  language  tbe 
beart  is  figuratively  assumed  to  be  tbe  seat  of  all  tbe 
faculties  of  our  incorj)oreal  nature,  and  in  one  passage 
or  otber  of  Holy  Writ  tbe  term  is  used  to  represent 
all  tbese  faculties.  It  means,  sometimes  reason,  some- 
times memory,  at  one  time  conscience,  at  another  the 
affections.  The  distinction  of  tbe  bead  and  the  beart, 
so  common  with  us,  was  unknown  to  the  Jews,  or  at 
least  unused  by  them,  as  far  as  we  know,  and  therefore 
tbe  operations  of  the  reason  as  well  as  the  agitations 
of  the  feelings  were  described  as  holding  their  com- 
mon locabty  in  the  heart.  When  it  is  asserted,  then, 
by  tbe  Apostle,  tbat  "with  the  beart  man  bebeveth 
35 


546  OUR   EE6P0XSIBILITY   FOR   OUR   FAITH. 

unto  rigliteousness,"  we  may  infer  tliat  tlie  faitli  wliicli 
will  be  counted  to  us  for  rigliteousness,  or  wliicli  will 
justify  us  in  tlie  sight  of  God,  is  such,  a  con\dction  of 
the  understanding  as  will  control  the  affections,  and 
exert  a  purifying  and  a  permanent  influence  upon  the 
life  and  character  of  the  believer. 

The  distinction  which  the  Aj)ostle  here  introduces 
incidentally  in  the  course  of  his  argument,  is  not  be- 
tween faith  as  an  act  of  the  mind  simj^ly,  and  faith  as 
combining  with  this  act  an  emotion  of  the  soul, 
but  between  faith  as  an  inward  conviction  and  as 
an  open  profession.  He  had  asserted  that  Christ 
was  "  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every 
one  that  believeth."  He  then  states  what  is  im- 
plied in  this  faith,  viz :  "  If  thou  shalt  confess  with 
thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  shalt  believe  in  thine 
heart  that  God  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead,  thou 
shalt  be  saved.  For  with  the  heart  man  believeth 
unto  rio-hteousness ;  and  with  the  mouth  confession  is 
made  unto  salvation."  Thus,  then,  we  see  that  a 
saving  faith  demands  an  outward  j)i'ofession,  accom23a- 
nied  with  an  inward  conviction.  Observe,  however, 
that  this  declaration  is  not  to  be  restricted  to  the  single 
article  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ  from  the  dead; 
for  as  upon  this  fact  depends  the  truth  of  all  that  Jesus 
taught  and  did,  a  behef  in  it  involves  a  belief  in  the 
whole  Gospel ;  and  as  the  Gospel  is  the  only  means  of 
salvation,  in  order  to  secure  this  inestimable  benefit  we 
must  each  confess  it  with  our  mouth  and  believe  it 
with  our  heart. 


OUR   EESPONSIBILITT   TOR    OUR   FAITH.  547 

Now  the  nature  and  the  extent  of  this  heart-behef 
is  an  important  and  interesting  subject  of  investiga- 
tion, and  as  we  proceed  with  it,  I  think  we  shall  be 
fully  satisfied  that  religious  faith  is  an  inward  state, 
subject  in  a  great  measure  to  our  own  control,  and 
therefore  that  we  shall  be  justly  held  accountable  for 
our  want  of  it. 

We  have  seen  that  "  the  heart "  is  an  expression 
that  stands  for  the  combined  faculties  of  the  inner  man. 
These,  for  the  purpose  of  examining  their  distinct  ope- 
rations, we  usually  arrange  under  three  heads,  the  un- 
derstanding, the  affections,  and  the  will.  The  perfec- 
tion of  saving  faith  demands  the  exercise  of  all  these 
constituent  parts  of  the  one  spiritual  nature  of  man. 
But  in  its  formation,  they  may  act  distinctly,  and  with 
different  degrees  of  power,  in  different  men,  and  under 
various  circumstances  of  life.  As  applied  to  the  ob- 
jects of  religious  belief,  the  affections  are  usually  first 
called  forth.  When  the  infant  first  kneels  at  the  side 
of  its  pious  and  loving  mother,  and  is  taught  to  lisp  its 
earliest  words  of  j)rayer  and  praise,  its  reasoning  pow- 
ers are  but  very  slightly  developed.  It  is  difficult  to 
raise  its  comprehension  to  any  being  higher  than  that 
mother,  or  more  capable  of  contributing  to  its  happi- 
ness or  misery.  Objects  of  sense  are  the  only  objects 
within  its  intellectual  grasp,  and  in  regard  to  these  its 
deductions  are  wavering  and  often  erroneous.  But  its 
affections  are  in  full  play ;  it  can  love,  and  fear,  and 
hate,  and  its  conduct  is  controlled  by  these  impulses. 
Its  belief  in  God  is  nothinn^  more  than  love  for  an  un- 


548  OUE   KESPONSIBILITY   FOE    OUE   FAITH. 

seen  mysterious  Father  residing  somewhere  in  the 
skies,  and  fear  of  displeasing  him.  Its  belief  in  the 
Saviour  is  the  same  sentiment  excited  towards  an  ab- 
sent and  devoted  Friend  who  has  sacrificed  all,  even 
life,  for  its  sake.  Try  to  make  it  reason  about  the 
being  and  nature  of  God,  and  the  work  of  redemption, 
and  to  comprehend  these  questions  intellectually,  and 
you  will  see  how  difficult  your  task,  and  how  slow  the 
progress  you  make.  But  appeal  to  its  affections,  and 
excite  them  and  direct  them  to  a  heavenly  Father  and 
a  bleeding  Saviour,  and  its  little  heart  will  swell  with 
emotion,  and  in  its  mantling  cheek  and  tearful  eyes, 
you  will  discover  that  love  has  already  begun  the  for- 
mation of  faith,  and  is  preparing  the  way  for  the  intel- 
lectual exercise  of  the  same  great  principle.  If  we 
leave  the  state  of  childhood,  and  examine  that  of  the 
full  formed  man,  we  shall  discover  that  here  also  the 
affections  are  the  earliest  and  most  persuasive  guides 
to  religious  faith.  Few  men  ever  take  up  the  Gospel 
and  examine  into  its  truth  as  an  abstract  question,  by 
sifting  its  evidences,  and  applying  the  tests  of  logic 
and  criticism  to  its  pretensions,  because  few  are  capable 
of  carrying  on  such  an  investigation ;  and  of  those  who 
are  equal  to  such  a  task,  the  number  that  engage  in  it, 
until  their  affections  are  first  interested  in  religion,  is 
exceedingly  small.  Why  should  they  occu23y  them- 
selves in  studies  so  laborious,  and  which  can  contribute 
little  or  nothing  to  their  worldly  advancement  ?  But 
when  a  man  has  once  got  his  feehngs  interested  in  re- 
ligion, because  it  promises  to  supply  a  void  in  his  heart 


OUR   EESPOISTSIBILITY   FOR    OUR    FAITH.  549 

whicli  nothing  else  can  fill ;  because  it  comes  to  liini 
Avhen  bowed  down  and  weary  witli  a  load  of  sin,  and 
shows  him  how  to  remove  it ;  because  it  holds  out  the 
hope  of  a  brighter  and  better  world  when  his  prospect 
here  is  dark  and  dreary,  or  is  about  to  fade  away  for 
ever  from  his  sight ;  because  it  draws  near  to  him  when 
his  tenderest  affections  are  torn  and  agonized  by  the 
cruel  ravages  of  death,  and  speaks  the  only  words  that 
can  reach  to  the  depth  of  his  wounded  love ; — when 
thus  the  Gospel  has  gained  his  attention,  he  will  hear, 
he  will  take  its  promises  on  trust,  until  the  calmer  sea- 
son of  submission  or  resignation  shall  have  arrived, 
and  then  he  may  j^erhaps  for  the  sake  of  a  fii'mer  con- 
Auction,  or  fi'om  pure  interest  in  the  subject  itself,  ap- 
ply his  reasoning  powers  to  the  examination  of  the 
ground  of  his  faith.  But  with  most  of  those  who  be- 
lieve, the  process  of  reasoning  upon  this  question  is  a 
very  simple  one.  A  w^ant  is  felt ;  a  painful  want,  a 
restless  want,  a  hunger  of  the  soul ;  the  bread  of  life 
is  offered,  it  is  seized  upon,  it  satisfies  the  torment- 
ing desire  most  gratefully  and  most  entirely,  and  this 
is  enough.  I  was  famishing  and  now  I  abound — is  not 
this  the  food  which  He  who  made  my  soul  proA-ided 
for  its  nourishment  ?  I  cannot  doubt,  and,  therefore,  I 
accept  it  gratefully  and  believe. 

But  still,  while  we  give  this  precedence  and  this  pre- 
ponderance to  the  influence  of  the  affections  in  producing 
religious  belief,  it  is  not  for  the  purpose  of  undervalu- 
ing, and  still  less  for  that  of  setting  aside,  the  author- 
ity of  the  iindevstanding  in  this  question.     Why  should 


550  OUR    EESPONSLBILITY   FOE    OUE   FAITH. 

we  do  this  ?  The  Gospel  challenges  the  closest  inves- 
tigation into  its  evidences.  It  appeals  to  the  reason  as 
directly  as  to  the  feelings.  And  if  the  reason  is  first 
convinced,  and  the  feelings  are  afterwards  brought  in, 
it  matters  not ;  this  faith  will  be  a  saving  faith  equally 
with  that  which  is  produced  by  the  more  common  and 
more  natural  process.  God  has  graciously  made  J)Y0- 
vision  for  every  grade  of  intelligence,  for  every  varied 
combination  of  the  mind  and  the  affections  as  found  in 
man.  The  brightest  understanding  may  task  its  pow- 
ers to  the  utmost  upon  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love, 
and  if  they  are  faithfully  and  honestly  employed,  con- 
viction and  admiration  will  become  stronger  and 
strono-er,  and  intellectual  faith  will  at  last  break  off  its 
cold  and  rigid  investigations,  and  bend  in  profound 
humility  and  adoring  love  before  the  cross  of  Jesus. 
And  on  the  other  hand,  take  the  humblest  intellect, 
that  of  the  child ;  or  that  of  the  man  in  stature,  but 
whose  mental  powers  are  feeble  and  undiscii^lined  as 
those  of  a  child ;  to  such  an  intellect  let  the  Gospel  be 
offered,  and  it  will  hardly  be  able  to  comj^rehend  the 
elementary  principles  of  its  belief,  certainly  not  to  hold 
the  briefest  argument  concerning  them ;  but  yet  these 
same  principles  shall  take  hold  of  the  affections,  and 
warm  them,  and  excite  them,  and  direct  them,  and 
shall  do  more  to  produce  ]3urity  of  living,  and  j^eace 
of  heart,  and  sustaining  hoj)e  and  courage  in  life,  and 
triumph  in  death,  than  all  the  argument  and  demon- 
stration in  the  world.  And  what  is  more,  these  very 
affections  kindled  and  glowing  with  live  embers  from 


OUR   RESPOlSrSIBILITY   FOE    OUR   FAITH.  551 

the  altar  of  God,  will  shed  a  light  upon  the  mind,  and 
communicate  a  warmth  to  it  that  shall  quicken  it  after 
a  wonderful  manner,  and  give  to  an  intellect,  once  dull 
and  almost  brutish,  powers  of  quick  perception,  and 
the  faculty  of  strong  practical  reasoning. 

If  these  statements  are  true,  and  we  think  they 
cannot  be  controverted,  is  there  any  room  for  doubt  as 
to  the  question,  whether  or  not  religious  belief  is  a 
voluntary  state  ?  Who  can  reasonably  hesitate  as  to 
his  power  of  exercising  a  control  over  his  affections  ? 
Who  can  deny  that  he  has  the  ability  to  direct  his  in- 
tellectual powers  to  the  examination  of  any  subject 
presented  to  his  notice  ?  If  then  there  is  any  intelli- 
gent and  accountable  being  who  does  not  believe  in 
God  and  love  him,  who  does  not  accept  Jesus  Christ 
as  his  Saviour,  and  comply  with  the  Gospel  terms  of 
salvation,  there  are  two  conditions  on  which  we  may 
account  him  excusable — either  that  he  has  never  heard 
of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  or  that  ha\dng  heard  of 
it,  and  examined  it  fully,  faithfully,  and  in  an  humble 
and  prayerful  spirit,  he  has  come  to  the  honest  convic- 
tion that  the  Gospel  is  not  sustained  by  adequate  j^roof. 
But  from  you  who  now  hear  me  both  these  alternatives 
are  removed.  You  cannot  deny  that  the  Gospel  of 
salvation  hath  been  proclaimed  in  your  hearing  times 
without  number.  "  Wisdom  crieth  without ;  she 
uttereth  her  voice  in  the  streets :  she  crieth  in  the 
chief  place  of  concourse,  in  the  oj)enings  of  the  gates 
in  the  city  she  uttereth  her  words."     As  to  the  other 


552  OUE   RESPONSIBILITY   FOR   OUR   FAITH. 

alternative  we  are  very  bold  and  confident  in  asserting 
tliat  a  thorougli,  faithful,  and  heart-directed  investi- 
gation never  can  lead  to  any  other  conclusion  than 
that  the  Gospel  is  "  the  great  power  of  God  unto  sal- 
vation." 


PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  AND  JUDGMENT. 


Amos    iv.    12. 
"Prepare  to  meet  thy  God." 

From  this  dread  inter\aew  there  is  no  escape.  The 
day  is  coming  when  each  one  of  us  will  be  summoned 
to  meet  our  God.  Yes,  my  brethren,  every  intelligent 
being  who  has  drawn  the  breath  of  life  since  the  cre- 
ation of  the  world,  and  every  one  that  shall  be  called 
into  future  existence,  must  inevitably  appear  in  the 
presence  of  that  great  Being  who  made  and  governs 
the  universe.  No  violence  will  enable  us  to  resist,  and 
no  artifices  will  give  us  the  opportunity  to  flee  away. 
When  the  trumpet  of  the  Archangel  shall  wake  the 
slumbering  dead,  and  change  as  in  a  moment,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  corruptible  bodies  of  living 
men,  the  whole  assembled  myriads  shall  be  urged  for- 
ward by  a  silent  and  resistless  jDower,  like  the  waves 
of  the  mighty  ocean,  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ. 
Nor  shall  we  then  be  sustained  by  that  confidence 


554        PEEPAEATION   rOR   DEATH   AND   JUDGMENT. 

wliicli  assembled  numbers  liave  given  to  those  in- 
volved in  a  common  cause,  nor  can  we  tben  liope  to 
be  unobserved  and  forgotten  in  tlie  promiscuous  mul- 
titude. No  ;  the  eye  of  the  all-seeing,  all-knowing 
God  will  be  upon  us,  and  the  individuality  of  our 
being  will  then  be  felt  as  if  we  each  one  stood  alone. 
We  shall  be  assured  that  our  hearts  are  laid  open  to 
their  inmost  recesses  ;  we  shall  be  tremblingly  aware 
that  our  particular  character  and  conduct  will  be 
scanned  by  Him  who  cannot  be  deceived.  Memory 
and  conscience  under  this  awful  excitement  will  be 
roused  to  their  most  vigorous  exertion.  No  book  of 
record  will  be  required  to  prove  our  sins  and  delin- 
quencies, nor  will  the  accusing  angel  need  to  prefer  his 
charges  against  us,  or  to  proclaim  aloud  our  guilt.  The 
agonies  of  remorse  will  indicate  to  the  wicked  their 
sentence,  before  the  Almighty  Judge  shall  declare  it ; 
and  the  encouraging  smile  of  a  Saviour,  and  the  assu- 
rance of  his  intercession,  will  animate  the  rio-hteous 
and  give  them  the  joyful  hoj)e  of  pardon  and  accept- 
ance. But  the  trial,  the  dreadful  trial,  the  final  trial, 
the  trial  deciding  our  eternal  destiny,  must  take  place, 
and  we  shall,  each  one  of  us,  either  go  with  the  right- 
eous into  life  eternal,  or  depart  with  the  wicked  into 
everlasting  fii'e  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels. 
Is  it  not  then  of  importance  unspeakable  that  we 
should  hear  and  obey  the  admonition,  "prej^are  to 
meet  thy  God  ?  " 

I  would  trust,  my  brethren,  that  your  minds  have 
been  in  some  degree  prepared  by  the  foregoing  obser- 


PREPARATIOIf   FOE   DEATH    AND   JUDGMENT.        555 

vations  to  consider  this  subject  witli  a  solemn  attention, 
and  will  therefore  lead  your  meditations  to  inquire, 

First^  into  the  necessity  for  this  preparation. 

Secondly^  into  its  nature. 

Thirdly^  to  notice  the  marhs  by  which  this  state 
of  mind  is  indicated  ;  and 

Lastly^  to  point  out  the  ivarning  and  consolation 
which  attend  it. 

I.  The  necessity  for  preparation  against  the  day 
of  judgment,  can  be  denied  only  by  those  who  disbe- 
lieve that  there  is  a  future  state  of  existence,  or  who 
imagme  that  the  Supreme  Being  is  indifferent  as  re- 
gards the  conduct  of  men  in  this  life.  If  we  acknow- 
ledge that  there  is  a  life  beyond  the  grave,  and  that 
God  is  a  righteous  and  just  Being,  and  beholds  the 
things  that  are  done  in  heaven  and  earth,  we  must 
assent  to  the  farther  position,  that  he  has  appointed  a 
day  in  which  he  will  bring  every  work  into  judgment ; 
and  assenting  to  this,  the  necessity  for  preparation  is 
an  irresistible  inference.  Future  accountability,  how- 
ever, is  so  clearly  and  emphatically  recognized  in  the 
Sacred  Volume,  that  arguments  independent  of  it, 
although  the  most  conclusive  might  be  brought  forward, 
are  rendered  needless.  Nor  can  argument  be  needed 
to  prove  to  any  one  who,  with  correct  motives  and 
feelings,  enters  the  walls  of  a  Christian  temple,  that 
his  hfe  should  be  a  preparation  for  judgment  to  come. 
All  such  persons — and  to  such  only  do  we  now  speak — 
should  we  ask  them,  Do  you  believe  there  is  a  God  I 
Do  you  believe  that  there  is  a  resurrection  both  of  the 


556        PEEPAEATION   FOE   DEATH   AND   JUDGMENT. 

just  and  tlie  unjust  ?  Do  you  believe  that  God  has 
appointed  a  day  in  which  he  will  judge  hoth  the  quick 
and  the  dead  ?  Do  you  believe  that  you  will  yourself 
have  to  stand  at  the  bar  of  the  Eternal  ? — would 
promptly  and  correctly  reply,  most  certainly  we  do. 
Should  we  push  the  inquiry  farther,  and  say.  Do  you 
believe  that  preparation  for  this  event  is  a  solemn  and 
incumbent  duty  ?  the  same  afiii'mative  answer  would 
be  given.  To  the  last  and  probing  question,  Are  you 
now  prepared  ?  we  fear  that  a  very  opposite  answer 
must,  in  most  instances,  be  returned.  And  the  reason 
is,  that  the  necessity  of  prej^aring  for  death  and  judg- 
ment is  most  generally  held  as  a  speculative  truth,  not 
adopted  as  a  practical  principle.  How  erroneous,  how 
awfully  erroneous  is  this  state  of  feeling  ? 

A  just  sense  of  our  accountability  should  enter 
into  and  control  all  our  actions.  When  we  think  in 
what  condition  we  are,  how  little  fitted  to  make  answer 
to  our  God  and  Judge,  and  how  soon  and  suddenly  it 
may  be  declared  to  us,  Give  an  account  of  thy  stew- 
ardship, for  thou  mayest  be  no  longer  steward,  we 
should  tremble  at  the  dangerous  position  in  which  we 
stand.  And  yet  most  men  are  passing  through  life  un- 
concerned, as  though  they  were  secure  of  it  for  ages, 
and  were  exempt  from  any  consequences  w^hich  are  to 
follow  its  good  or  ill  employment. 

Now,  how  can  we  convince  them  of  their  danger  ? 
how  can  we  rouse  them  to  a  just  feeling  of  the  neces- 
sity of  preparing  to  meet  their  God  ?  Their  under- 
standings are  already  satisfied  ;  they  require  no  argu- 


rnent,  but  with  fatal  procrastination  tliey  are  putting 
off  the  evil  day.  They  think  that  other  opportunities 
will  be  afforded,  and  that  there  will  be  time  sufficient 
to  accomplish  their  purpose.  The  young  are  waiting 
till  they  become  older,  and  have  been  satiated  with 
some  of  the  pleasures  they  feel  it  to  be  their  privileo-e 
to  enjoy ;  those  who  are  a  little  farther  advanced  are 
too  much  involved  in  their  worldly  concerns,  and  even 
the  warning  of  old  age  and  its  attendant  infirmities  is 
often  neglected,  and  a  last  sickness  and  a  dying-bed 
are  looked  forward  to  as  affording  sufficient  season  for 
preparation.  Meantime  the  awful  uncertainty  of  life 
is  never  taken  into  the  account,  and  admittino-  that  a 
few  days  or  hours  will  be  ample  space  for  preparation, 
it  is  not  remembered  that  even  these  may  not  be 
granted.  But  oh,  presumptuous  youth,  and  more  pre- 
sumptuous man,  do  not  thus  boast  thyself  of  to- 
morrow :  do  not  trust  the  safety  of  thy  immortal  soul 
to  such  uncertainties :  do  consider  the  affecting  ad- 
monitions which  day  by  day  are  sent  to  thee,  and  "  be 
also  ready,  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not  the  Son 
of  man  cometh." 

The  argument  for  immediate  preparation  is  greatly 
strengthened  when  we  consider  the  nature  of  this 
duty. 

II.  In  what  does  it  consist  ?  In  being  ready  to 
give  up  our  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body, 
and  to  give  it  up  with  joy  and  not  with  grief.  Were 
we  to  be  called  upon  in  reference  to  a  few  of  the 
actions  of  life,  and  to  state  our  convictions  upon  a  few 


558        PEEPAEATIOT^   FOR   DEATH    AND   JUDGMENT. 

points  of  belief,  and  the  scrutiny  to  end  there,  we  could 
with  greater  safety  and  propriety  allow  ourselves  but 
a  brief  season  of  preparation.  But  as  we  shall  be 
called  upon  to  answer  for  a  whole  life  of  privileges 
and  opportunities,  our  preparation  should  be  co-exten- 
sive. We  read  that  not  only  will  every  work  be 
brought  into  judgment,  but  also  every  secret  thought. 
Very  limited  and  inadequate  ideas  of  this  life  as  a 
state  of  probation  are  often  entertained.  It  is  supj^osed 
that  a  large  proportion  of  it  belongs  to  ourselves,  to 
be  em^^loyed  according  to  our  own  j^leasure,  so  as  we 
fall  into  no  positive  violation  of  the  Divine  command- 
ments, and  that  we  are  to  be  ready  to  answer  for  a 
few  seasons  of  prayer,  and  for  our  general  recognition 
of  the  laws  of  God,  and  that  here  accountability  ter- 
minates. But  how  does  this  correspond  with  the 
declarations  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  that  we  must  love 
and  serve  God  with  all  our  heart  and  mind  and  soul 
and  strength  ;  that  we  must  first  seek  the  kingdom  of 
God  and  his  righteousness  ;  that  we  must  not  be  con- 
formed to  this  world,  but  be  transformed  by  the  renew- 
ing of  our  minds  ?  The  truth  is  that  God  does  not 
demand  of  us  a  few  insulated  acts  of  oljedience,  and  a 
cold  and  heartless  acknowledgment  of  his  being  and 
perfections.  His  language  is  to  all  whom  he  calls  to 
the  knowledge  of  his  truth,  "My  sou,  give  me  thy 
heart."  We  must  render  up  ourselves  whole  and 
entire  to  the  service  of  God.  Preparation  to  meet  him 
at  the  day  of  judgment  consists  in  our  having  acquired 
this  state  of  mind.     There  can  be  no  question  that 


PEEPAEATIOlSr    FOR   DEATH   AT^D    JUDG.AIENT.        559 

man,  as  lie  exists  by  nature,  is  a  very  different  beino- 
from  man  as  renovated  by  grace.  In  tlie  former  state, 
lie  is  unprepared  to  meet  liis  God  ;  he  is  in  trespasses 
and  sins ;  lie  is  in  a  state  of  condemnation ;  liis  sen- 
tence must  be  eternal  deatli.  It  is  only  when  he  is 
renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind,  and  lives  the  life  he 
now  lives  in  the  flesh  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  that 
he  can  be  esteemed  ready  for  judgment. 

This  view  of  the  subject  greatly  simplifies  the 
question  before  us.  It  would  take  long  to  speak  in  a 
distinct  manner  of  all  our  duties  under  the  several 
heads  of  those  we  owe  to  God,  to  our  fellow-men,  and 
to  ourselves,  and  to  institute  an  examination  upon  each 
one  to  ascertain  whether  or  not  it  had  been  fulfilled. 
Preparation  thus  conducted  would  be  a  formal  and 
tedious  process,  and  the  sj^irit  of  piety  would  be  ex- 
hausted in  its  long  drawn  out  exercise  of  self-exami- 
nation. But  this  is  not  necessary,  nor  does  it  accord 
with  the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ.  The  plain  and 
essential  questions  are,  Do  we  love  God,  or  do  we  not  ? 
Do  we  believe  in  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  or  do  we  not  ? 
Have  we  been  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  our  minds,  or 
have  we  not  ?  And  is  our  life  an  evidence  of  our  pro- 
gressive sanctification,  or  is  it  not  ?  Uj^on  this  exami- 
nation it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  we  remember 
this  alternative — "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a 
new  creature  ; "  and  it  is  only  as  a  new  creature,  hav- 
ing cast  away  the  works  of  darkness  and  being  clothed 
in  the  armor  of  light,  which  is  the  panoply  of  Christ's 


560         PREPARATION   FOR   DEATH   AKD   JUDGMENT. 

rigliteousness,  that  lie  can  hope  for  acceptance  accord- 
ing to  the  terms  of  the  Gospel. 

III.  This  being  the  nature  of  preparation,  it  is  of 
great  importance  that  we  know  the  marks  hy  which 
this  state  of  mind  is  indicated.  We  must  suppose  tliat 
to  be  prej^ared  for  death  and  for  judgment  will  pro- 
duce some  visible  effects  upon  the  life  and  character 
of  every  man.  It  is  acknowledged  that  the  required 
change  is  principally  internal :  it  is  of  the  heart,  and 
its  perfection  is  to  be  judged  of  by  God  alone.  Still, 
however,  it  is  accompanied  by  external  evidences  which, 
if  not  an  unerring  sign,  may  in  general  be  relied  upon. 
At  any  rate,  accompanied  as  they  must  be  by  our  own 
consciousness,  they  may  serve  as  an  indication  for  our- 
selves. Now,  do  we  ask,  what  are  the  marks  of  a  soul 
prej^ared  for  judgment  ?  They  do  not  consist  in  a  life 
of  gloomy  austerity, — in  separation  from  all  the  con- 
cerns of  the  world,  and  an  unsocial  abstinence  from  its 
innocent  enjoyments.  They  are  not  shown  by  unceas- 
ing devotions,  extravagant  excitements,  and  loud  and 
boastful  professions.  Religion  may  unquestionably 
have  h.er  abode  in  the  cell  of  the  ascetic,  and  may  be 
found  in  the  assemblies  of  tlie  enthusiast ;  but  we  do 
not  believe  that  such  is  her  most  favored  resort.  If 
her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths 
are  peace,  we  shall  not  find  the  temple  to  which  these 
ways  and  paths  do  lead  shaded  with  melancholy  cy- 
press, and  its  altars  hung  with  mourning  and  the  in- 
signia of  woe,  and  the  light  of  joy  extinguished  and  the 
song  of  cheerfulness  silenced.     No,  we  believe  that 


PEEPAEATION"   FOE   DEATH   AND    JUDGMENT.        561 

there  is  peace  and  joy  in  believing, — that  true  religion 
produces  that  humble,  gentle,  pure,  resigned  and  cheer- 
ful temper,  best  adapted  to  temporal  enjoyment,  as  it 
is  alone  prepared  for  future  judgment. 

But  if  a  caution  be  interposed  against  this  view  of 
the  sjDirit  and  tendency  of  religion,  there  must  be  an- 
other and  more  emphatic  one  against  the  loose  and 
unworthy  opinions  which  some  entertain.  By  their 
conduct,  if  not  by  their  language,  they  would  lead  us 
to  believe  that  preparation  for  death  and  judgment  is 
made  at  very  little  sacrifice  of  thought,  or  time,  or 
worldly  pleasure  ;  that  it  is  consistent  with  indulgence 
not  merely  in  the  innocent  relaxations,  but  in  vain  and 
worldly  pleasures  and  employments.  They  can  think 
that  amusements,  however  calculated  to  dissipate  the 
mind,  to  paralyze  the  heart,  to  corrupt  its  sober  and 
chaste  afl:ections,  are  in  accordance  with  that  solemn 
profession  whose  language  was,  "  I  renounce  the  pomps 
and  vanities  of  this  wicked  world,  with  all  its  covetous 
desires  and  all  its  sinful  lusts."  But,  can  this  be  the 
religion  of  the  Gospel  ? — does  it  evince  that  spirit 
which  says,  "  love  not  the  world,"  "  our  conversation  is 
in  heaven?"  No,  my  brethren,  ask  but  your  own 
hearts,  and  you  will  answer,  no.  The  evidence  that  we 
are  prepared  to  meet  our  God  will  be  found  in  our 
sober,  uniform,  firm,  consistent  adherence  to  the  faith 
of  Christ,  and  to  that  conduct  which  this  faith  implies. 
Can  he  who  is  prepared  pass  days  and  nights  without 
prayer,  or  self-examination,  or  sober  meditation  ?  Can 
he  devote  his  understanding  and  his  affections  with  an 
36 


562        PREPAEATION   FOE   DEATH   AND   JTJDGMENT. 

absorbing  interest  to  worldly  gain,  or  worldly  bonor, 
or  vainer  still,  to  the  successive  engagements  of  empty 
pleasure.  No,  my  brethren.  There  must  be  a  dis- 
tinction between  the  worldling  and  the  Christian,  and 
this  distinction  must  not  consist  in  words  and  profes- 
sions alone,  it  must  be  made  manifest  in  the  life  and 
conduct. 

We  read  in  the  Scriptures  of  the  vanities  of  the 
world,  tbe  lusts  of  the  flesh,  the  lusts  of  the  eyes,  and 
the  pride  of  life.  There  must  be  such  things,  and  if  so, 
he  who  believes  in  the  Gospel  must  avoid  them.  If 
he  himself  feels  safe  amidst  temptation,  and  is  confident 
that  his  spiritual  character  is  never  tarnished  or  injured 
by  an  indiscriminate  intercourse  with,  the  world,  and 
an  unrestrained  indulgence  in  all  its  pleasures,  has  he 
not  another  reflection  to  make  ?  has  he  not  another 
responsibility  to  weigh  ?  What  is  the  influence  of  his 
example  upon  the  young  and  inexperienced  ?  will  not 
many  be  encouraged  by  it  to  advance  to  tbose  giddy 
precipices  wbere  theii'  young  footsteps  cannot  be  firm, 
nor  their  unpractised  eyes  be  steady  ?  If  those  who 
profess  to  love  and  serve  God  will,  by  tbeir  conduct, 
seem  to  love  and  serve  mammon  too, — if  those  whose 
better  thoughts  should  be  in  heaven,  will  seem  at 
times  to  have  no  thought  or  conversation  but  for  scenes 
of  pleasure, — if  those  who  have  professed  to  deny 
themselves,  and  to  take  up  their  cross  daily  and  follow 
Christ,  will  go  where  Christ  could  never  enter,  and 
where  every  sentiment  of  his  holy  religion  is  studiously 
banished,  and  bis  holy  Name  constantly  profaned,  what 


PREPAEATION   FOR   DEATH    AISTD   JUDGIVIENT.        563 

inference  will  tlie  young  make  ?  wliat  restraint  wUl 
tliey  be  disposed  to  put  upon  tlieir  conduct  or  their 
affections  ?  how  much,  will  they  believe  in  the  reality 
and  consistency  of  religious  principle  ?  Brethren,  let 
us  remember,  oh,  let  us  remember,  an  awful  responsi- 
bility is  upon  us ;  we  must  be  prepared  ourselves  to 
meet  our  God,  and  we  must  lead  others  by  the  mild 
influence  of  our  holy  example  to  prepare  to  meet  him 
too.  Let  not  the  double  curse  of  the  Pharisees'  wicked- 
ness fall  upon  our  heads,  "  Ye  will  not  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  yourselves,  neither  suffer  ye  them 
that  are  willing  to  enter  it." 

IV.  If  we  are  truly  prepared,  we  shall  feel,  and  in 
some  measure  exhibit,  this  state  of  preparation,  and 
shall  never  forget  the  warning  of  each  day  to  bring 
©ur  conscience  to  the  solemn  inquiry.  Especially,  ere 
sleep,  that  mimic  death  approaches,  to  seal  us  in  slum- 
ber unconscious  for  a  season,  as  that  of  the  grave,  we 
shall  mingle  confession  and  repentance  for  the  sins  of 
the  day,  and  prayers  for  protection  in  the  hours  of 
night,  with  the  solemn  thought,  am  I  prepared  to  meet 
my  God  ?  We  shall  examine  the  course  of  our  em- 
ployments and  our  relaxations  to  ascertain  of  their  ten- 
dency, and  whether  our  spiritual  nature  has  been  puri- 
fied and  elevated,  or  whether  we  have  been  drawn  still 
closer  to  the  earth  by  the  chains  of  avarice,  or  have 
been  rendered  unmindful  of  our  latter  end  by  the  giddy 
whirl  of  pleasure,  or  have  been  corrupted  by  sensual 
enjoyments.  From  a  self-examination  constantly  exer- 
cised under  the  solemn  responsibility  implied  in  the 


564        PEEPAKATION   FOR   DEATH   AND   JTJDGMENT. 

words  of  my  text,  we  shall  proceed  in  our  course  of 
life  witli  firmer  and  holier  resolves.  We  shall  abandon 
those  scenes  and  withdraw  from  those  engagements 
which  have  sullied,  if  not  stained,  our  Christian  integ- 
rity, or  have  weaned  our  affections  from  God  and  duty ; 
we  shall  exercise  virtuous  self-denial ;  we  shall  come 
out  from  the  world,  the  vain  world,  the  heartless  world, 
the  polluting  world,  and  shall  live  as  God's  people  in 
the  steadfast  performance  of  sacred  duty,  in  the  ele- 
vating enjoyment  of  daily  devotion,  in  the  noble  satis- 
faction of  constant  progression. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  I  would  hope  and  pray 
that  the  word  of  exhortation  and  warning  spoken  to 
you  at  this  time,  may  not  be  ineffectual.  But  that  it 
may  lead  many  of  you,  oh,  that  I  could  say  with  the 
least  confidence  of  belief  all^  to  ponder  the  thiu^ 
which  relate  to  your  eternal  welfare.  What  concern 
of  the  present  state  of  existence  can  claim  any  like 
importance,  what  subject  of  meditation  has  an  interest 
so  deep,  or  relates  to  consequences  so  momentous  ? 
And  yet  how  is  it  neglected  and  slighted,  and,  awful 
to  declare,  by  many  even  despised.  But  we  would 
augur  better  things  of  you.  You  dare  not  despise  the 
terrors  of  the  Lord  ;  you  will  not  turn  into  contempt 
the  warnings  of  his  ministers ;  oh,  give  us  one  addi- 
tional evidence  of  your  spiritual  wisdom ;  do  not 
lightly  esteem  or  perversely  postpone  the  solemn  con- 
siderations we  would  press  upon  you.  You  who  are 
involved  in  the  busy  concerns  of  the  world,  who  are 
seeking  its  wealth  and  its  fame,  prej)are  to  meet  your 


PEEPAEATION  FOE  DEATH  AND  JUDGMENT.    565 

God,  for  lie  may  call  you  before  you  have  attained 
half  your  desires  ;  and  if  you  reach  the  highest  object 
of  your  hopes,  what  will  it  all  avail  when  he  does  call 
you  ?  You  who  are  seeking  after  pleasure  alone,  and 
spend  your  days  and  nights  in  vanity,  prepare  to  meet 
your  God,  else  what  will  be  your  terror  and  dismay 
when  he  calls  you,  and  will  permit  no  longer  delay  '\ 
You  must  leave  the  world  and  worldly  things,  and 
what  will  your  vain  and  empty  heart,  your  trifling 
mind,  what  will  they  do  to  sustain  you  in  the  solemn 
presence  of  God  and  the  awful  realities  of  eternity  ? 
Ye  who  are  advancing  in  years,  and  who  have  ex- 
hausted more  than  half  the  allotted  age  of  man,  are 
ye  prepared  to  meet  your  God  ?  If  not,  oh  hasten, 
for  how  will  ye  answer  it  for  years  and  opportunities 
neglected.  Ye  who  are  in  the  bloom  of  life,  prepare, 
for  ye  know  not  how  soon  the  tender  tree  may  be  felled 
with  all  its  grown  and  flourishing  branches. 

Ye  all  who  hear  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  who 
know  the  solemn  event  which  has  excited  him  to  ex- 
postulate with  you,  and  to  some  of  whom  this  may  be 
the  last  voice  of  admonition  that  shall  be  pronounced, 
the  last  one  of  numerous  warnings  that  have  been  for- 
gotten, the  last  call  to  escape  from  death  and  fly  to 
heaven, — "  Peepaee  to  meet  youe  God." 


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New  and  Splendid  Library  Edition 

OF  THE 

POPULAK  POETS  AND  POETRY  OF  BRITAIN 

EDITED,  WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL  NOTICES, 
BV  THE  REV.  GEOIJGE  GIEEILLAN, 

AUTHOR  OF   "GALLERY  OP  LITERAET  P0KTKAIT8,"   "  BARDS   OF  THE  BIBLE,"   ETC. 

I*  (Ismy-octaTO  size,  printcfl  from  a  new  pica  type,  on  superflue  paper,  and  neatly  bound 
Price,  only  Si  a  volume  in  cloth,  or  $2  50  in  calf  extra. 


"  Strangely  enough,  we  have  never  had  as  yet  any  thing  at  all  approaching:  a  satlt 
factory  edition  of  the  English  poets.  We  have  had  Johnson's,  and  Bell's,  and  Cooke's. 
and  Sharpe's  small  sized  editions— we  have  had  the  one  hwndred  volume  edition  from 
the  Chiswick  press— we  have  had  the  double-columned  ^iditions  of  Chalmers  and  Aa- 
derson— and  we  have  the,  as  yet,  imperfect  Aiding  editioa  ;  but  no  series  has  hitherto 
given  evidence  that  a  man  of  cultivated  ta,steand  research  directed  the  whole."— ^tt«n. 

The  splendid  series  of  books  now  oft'ered  to  the  public  at  such  an  unusually  lo-n 
rate  of  charge,  will  be  got  up  with  all  the  care  and  elegance  which  the  present  advanced 
state  of  the  publishing  art  can  command. 

The  well-known  literary  cluiracter  and  ability  of  the  editor  is  sufficient  guaranty  for 
tlie  accuracy  and  general  elucidation  of  the  text,  while  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding 
of  the  volumes  will  be  of  the  highest  class,  forming,  in  these  respects,  a  striking  contrast 
to  all  existing  cheap  editions,  in  which  so  few  efforts  have  been  made  to  combine 
superiority  in  production  with  low  prices. 

Under  the  impression  that  a  chronological  issue  of  the  Poets  would  not  be  so  ac- 
ceptable as  one  more  diversified,  it  has  been  deemed  advisable  to  intermis  the  earlier 
and  the  later  Poets.  Care,  however,  will  be  taken  th.at  either  the  author  or  the  volumes 
are  in  themselves  complete,  as  pmblished  ;  so  that  no  purchaser  discontinuing  the  series 
at  any  time,  will  bo  possessed  of  imperfect  books. 

The  absence  in  the  book  market  of  any  handsome  uniform  series  of  the  Popular  Brit 
Ish  Poets,  at  a  moderate  price,  has  induced  the  publishers  to  project  the  present  edition, 
under  the  impression  th.at,  produced  in  superior  stvle,  deservim;  a  place  on  the  shelves 
of  the  best  librarie.s  and  offered  at  less  than  one  half  the  usual  seUiug  price,  it  will  meet 
that  amount  of  patronage  which  an  enterprise,  based  on  such  liberar terms,  requires. 

The  series  will  conclude  with  a  few  volumes  of  fugitive  pieces,  and  a  History  oi 
British  Poetry,  in  which  selections  will  bo  given  from  the  writings  of  those  authors 
whose  works  do  not  possess  sufficient  interest  to  warrant  their  publication  as  a  whols. 

It  is  believed  that  this  will  render  the  present  edition  of  the  British  Poets  the  mosi 
complete  which  has  ever  been  issued,  and  secure  for  it  extensive  support.  The  series  U 
Intended  to  include  the  following  autnors : — 


ADD130N. 

AKEKSIDE. 

ARMSTRONG. 

BAKBAULD. 

EEATTIE. 

BLAIR. 

BLOOMFIELD, 

BBUCK. 

BCESS. 

BUTLER. 

BTRON. 

CAMPBELL. 

CAEEW. 

CHATTERTON. 

OHAUOEK. 

CHITECniLU 

OLA  KB. 

COLERIDGE. 

COLLINS. 

COWLEY. 


OOWPER. 

CRAFBE. 

CRASHAW. 

CUNNINGHAM. 

DAVIES. 

DENHAM. 

DONNE, 

DRAYTON. 

DRUMMOND. 

DRYDEN. 

DUNBAR, 

DYER. 

FALCONER. 

FERGUSSON. 

FLETCHER,  O. 

GAY. 

GIFFORD. 

GLOVEK. 

BOLDSMirn. 

uOWER. 


GEAHAME. 

GRAY. 

GUBKN. 

HAMILTON,  W. 

HARRINGTON. 

HERBERT. 

IIERKICK. 

HOGG. 

JAMES   L 

JONES. 

JOHNSON. 

J0N80N. 

LEYI/EN. 

LLOTD. 

LOGAN. 

MACPHEMON. 

MAl^ETT. 

MARVEL. 

MILTON. 

.MOORE. 


OPIE. 

PARNELL. 

PENROSE. 

PERCY. 

POPE. 

PRIOR. 

QUAP.LES. 

RAMSAY. 

BOGElta. 

ROSCOMMON. 

K0S8. 

SACKVILLE. 

SCOTT,  J 

SCOTT,  81  l  W. 

SIIAKSPEAEE. 

SHELLEY. 

SUENSTONE. 

SMART. 

SMOLLETT. 

BO.MEUVILLE, 


SPENSER. 

SUCKLING. 

SURREY. 

SWIFT. 

TANNAHILL. 

THOMSON. 

TIOKELL. 

VAUGHAN,  a 

WALLER. 

WAKTON,  J. 

WARTON,  T. 

■WATTS. 

WHITE,  H.  1 

WITHER. 

WILKIE. 

WOLCOTX 

■WOI.FB. 

WYATT. 

YOUNG. 


The  foUjwing  A  uthws  are  now  ready  : 
lOnK  MILTON,  2  vols. ;    -TAMES  THOMSON,  1  vol. ;  GEORQ  E 
•lAMEb  YOUNG,  1  vol 


UEGBEBT.  1  VM 


